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YV 


"Vive    la    Bagatelle!" 


K.  N.  PEPPER, 

And  other  Condiments ; 

put    up    for    general    use 

By  Jacques  Maurice. 


*  Forgive  my  general  and  exceptless  rashness, 
Perpetual-sober  Gods !" 

Tvmon  of  Ath&as. 

'At.  Pepper's  voice  is  as  sweet  as  a  bagpipe." 

MaoGbawlee,  in  PcmL  Clifford, 


NEW    YORK  : 

RUDD   &   CARLETON,    310   Broadway, 

M  DCCC   LIX. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1858,  by 

JAS.  W.  MOBBIS, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  of  New  York. 


B.  okaiqhb;a.d,'  *  *     *  ' 

Printer,  Stereotyper,  and  Electrotyper, 

CCaiton  Suillftng, 
81,  83,  and  85  Ceittn  Street. 


K.     N.     PEPPER, 

And  other  Condiments. 


906804 


TO 


Louis  Gaylord  Clark,  Esg. 


Dear  Clark, 

I  remember  a  winter  evening  when  we  sat  chatting 
together  in  your  sandlum,  sipping  a  mild  and  wholesome 
beverage  [tea,  was  it  not?),  or  answering  some  exaggerated 
shriek  of  the  passing  wind  with  the  mild  satire  of  a  peaceful 
pipe.  Little  EUiott  had  climbed  the  paternal  knee,  and  mis- 
chievous Jose  hovered  near,  in  no  wise  "  afraid  of  her  father." 
The  bright  coal  fire  sent  a  cheerful  gleam  through  the  room — 
O  cosy  snuggery! — and  made  the  delicate  wreath  of  smoke 
that  had  settled  about  your  head  appear  like  an  indifferent 
halo.     It  was  the  place  for  that  delicate  coronation. 

The  lapidary-work  of  this  literary  Mosaic  was  hardly  yet 
begun  ;  but  it  happened  that,  by  a  nervous  anticipation,  I  fell  a 
musing,  in  one  of  the  natural  pauses  of  our  chat,  on  a  certain 


vi  Dedicatory  Letter. 

after-question  which  had  needlessly  perplexed  me.  At  length, 
putting  myself  in  communication  with  my  heart,  I  heard  th^t 
organ  say,  distindlly,  ''Jacques,  if  thou  canst  not  hnd  here 
the  man  to  whom  thou  shouldst  dedicate  thy  work,  thou 
mayest  go  farther  and  fare  worse." 

I  have  presumptuously  taken  my  own  advice.  Considering 
our  friendship,  your  kindness  to  Mr.  Pepper,  and  the  liberal 
use  I  have  made  of  your  name  in  these  pages,  perhaps  it  is  a 
wonder  I  should  ever  have  debated  the  point  at  all. 

When  you  have  inspe6led  the  volume,  you  will  have  found 
it  "full  of  I's  within,"  Hke  the  Four  Beasts  of  the  Revelation; 
and  it  must  be  confessed,  that  in  neither  interior  can  we  see 
much  need  of  them.  But  it  is  my  wish  and  timid  anticipation 
one  day  to  possess  a  greater  fund  of  modesty — or  the  counter- 
feit of  it — my  youth  and  ripening  worldly  knowledge  lending 
some  encouragement  to  the  desire. 

Take  kindly,  my  dear  Clark,  these  firstlings  of  a  **vagrom" 
genius  ;  and  share  with  me  the  fervent  hope  that  it  may  some- 
time "bourgeon  and  blossom"  toward  a  better  fruit. 

Your  attached  friend, 

JACQUES   MAURICE. 

N»w  York,  Sept.  1, 188& 


PREFACE. 

(Written  by  P.  Pepper  Podd,  Esq.) 


My  young  friend,  the  Editer  and  part  Anther  of  this  book,  Informs 
me  that,  having  wrote  a  great  many  prefaces  for  it — some  Hundred,  1 
Understood  him  to  say — and  finding  the  last  one  somewhat  poorer 
than  the  first,  which  he  declares  was  not  fit  to  be  perused  before  a 
Dog  or  other  animal,  he  will  Depend  on  me  to  Do  it  for  him.  I  gladly 
undertake  almost  Any  thing  for  a  friend  like  what  he  is ;  but  I  Confess 
my  pulse  runs  up  to  80  when  I  Surrender  myself  to  the  Task. 

Preface  is  hard  to  write,  for  the  G-enerality  of  Mankind.  Mankind 
are  not  use  to  it.     "When  they  go  to  write  on  it,  they  can  Not  think  of 

any  thing  to  say.     It  is  Compleatly  so  now.     Mr,  M said  (I 

remember  his  words) :  Now,  no  Fooling,  Mr.  Podd.  None  of  your 
nonsense.  Be  plain,  brief,  and  to  the  point.  To  Say  this,  is  uncom- 
monly easy ;  to  Do  it,  is  particularly  Difficult, 

In  my  Opinion,  a  Work  of  Literatoor  ought  to  be  its  own  Excuse : 
or  else  it  should  be  Consigned  to  the  fire,  or  perhaps  Mutilated  by 


viii  Preface. 

Tairing.  As  long  as  the  Wonderful  genus  of  Pepper  consents  to 
illuminate  a  Book,  that  Book,  in  my  opinion,  can  not  Need  a  Excuse. 
I  may  be  Mistaken,  but  that  is  my  Opinion. 

But  to  think  Different,  is  the  Lot  of  Mankind.     Mankind  scarcely 

ever  agrees.     Mr.  M thinks  perhaps  he  himself  has  not  Done  as 

well  as  he  might,  and  says  he  is  Afraid  he  will  be  Overshadowed  by 
Mr.  Pepper's  genus,  and  thrown  into  a  unpleasant  Shade  by  that 
Individual.  That  Effect  will  of  course  be  Produced,  /expect  to  share 
that  Gloom  with  him.  But  we  should  be  Proud  to  Prostrate  ourselves 
at  the  Eoot  of  Genus,  regardless  of  its  size ;  and  let  our  Gaze  wander 
up  his  lims  and  body,  until  it  rests  with  Satisfaction  on  his  glorious 

Feachers.     Mr.  M has  (1)  Talents  and  (2)  Education,  but  no  (3) 

Genus ;  Mr.  Pepper  has  (3)  Genus  and  (1)  Talents,  but  no  (2)  Educa- 
tion; (1)  and  (3)  hiding  (2)  pretty  Much.  From  this  Statement — 
made  not  without  Study — ^it  is  so  vividly  Apparent  as  to  be  quite 
Plane,  that  Pepper  is  (to  Employ  the  Languige  of  Eacers  and  inferier 
men).  A- head. 

Upon  my  showing  the  Foregoing  to  Mr.  M ,  he  Kemarked 

that  I  had  Done  it.  That  is  what  I  intended.  I  Meant  to  Do  it.  I 
am  glad  he  is  Satisfied.  He  says  he  will  not  Detain  me  any  Longer 
now,  and  will  continue  the  subject  of  himself  himself^  in  another 
Department, 

My  Readers  must  not  be  offended  if  I  take  my  Leaf  before  an  Intro- 
duction. I  act  for  Another ;  and  when  he  demands,  in  a  Imperative 
voice,  "Go,"  I  must  of  course  Stop. 

P.  P.  P. 


CONTENTS 


"Are  you  looking  for  any  one  in  particular?  as  the  mite  said  to  the 
microscope." — Punch. 


Page 

To  the  Reader,        .         .         .         .         .       13 
Biographical,  .         .         .         .         .         •       ^5 

Genus :  a  Sketch.     By  Mr.  Podd. 
Juvenile  Poem  by  Mr.  Pepper. 
Alegaiter  &  Wotter  Snaik. 

Astronomy,      ......       27 

In  a  familiar  (but  not  impertinent)  Lecture. 

Mr.  Pepper's  Second  Feat,        ...       54 

Soliliqy  :  Adrest  to  a  Berd  onto  the  fens. 

The  Anguished  Bride,      ....       58 

A  Tale.     By  WilHe  Wilton  Willoughby. 


Contents. 


Page 
Mr.  Pepper's  Third,         •         •         •         •       73 

The  Suferings  ov  a  Man. 

The  Erie  Canal, 76 

A  Mild  Rhapsody. 

Mr.  Pepper's  Fourth  Achievement,  .         .       85 

A  noad  to  the  Comeck. 

A  Tedious  Story,    .         .         .         .         .90 

To  Angelina, 105 

Mr.  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor,        .         .         .108 

Letter  and  Poem  :    To  mi  littel  hous. 

A  Lytell  Geste  of  Le wys  Clarke,      .         •     1 1 5 

Mr.  Pepper's  Mournful  Sixth, .         .         .     1 20 
Letter  and  Poem  :  To  the  aingel  as  is  gone. 

On  Noses, 1 25 

Mr.  Pepper's  Great  Ode,  .         .         .132 

To  the  Greek  Slaiv. 

Phrenology  of  the  Heavens,    .         .         •137 

Copy  of  a  Painting  by  Mr.  Pepper. 

The  Little  Frenchman,  .  .  .  .141 
A  Poem  (and  Poet)  Cut  Short,  .  .150 
A  Pause, 152 


Contents. 

xi 

Mr.  Pepper  in  the  Vale  of  Shadows, 

Letters  from  Podd  and  Pepper. 

Page 

Lager  Bier  Lyric, 

Taken  from  the  lips  of  an  imported  Cockney. 

161 

On  the  Clam, 

164 

Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving,      . 

Weelbarer.     Into  2  parts. 

171 

An  Adventure  in  the  Dark, 

(Calculated  for  the  meridian  of  several  small  places.) 

180 

Mr.  Pepper's  Astonishing  Ninth, 

Eklips. 

189 

Pharaoh,          .         .         . 
A  Tale  of  Bricks. 

193 

December  in  the  Country, 

200 

Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter, 

202 

To  Venus, 

209 

Answers  to  Correspondents, 

By  a  quondam  Editor. 

212 

Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh,     . 

Tirkel:  a  Pome. 

219 

Mr.  Podd's  Essay, 

To  the  World. 

231 

xii  Contents. 

Page 

Pepper  Redivivus, 236 

Sonnet  to  Pete. 

A  Warning, 239 

Effects  of  the  Abolition  of  Capital  Pun-ishment. 

Mr.  Pepper  re-Pete's  himself,  .         .         .     243 

Pete  :  an  averij  pome  (for  length.) 

A  Delibation  on  Style,     ....     250 
L'Envoi. 255 


TO   THE  READER. 


FEIENDLY  KEADEK :  In  tMs  page— the  Yesti- 
bnle,  as  it  were,  at  a  small  Museum  of  Fancies — 
I  welcome  you  to  the  show,  and  wish  very  heartily 
you  had  brought  your  friends.  You  entered  my 
"  grounds"  at  a  G-ate  constructed  by  that  finished  archi- 
tect, Mr.  Podd ;  and  had  I  not  chosen  to  set  it  near 
my  house,  you  might  have  been  obliged  (or  get  in, 
quite  unhandsomely,  the  back  way)  to  tire  yourself  in 
an  Avenue  dark  and  dreary,  rough,  and  horribly 
winding :  the  clumsy  work  of  the  proprietor  himself. 
That  modest  gentleman  (who  has  stepped  from  the 
first  person  and  gone  aside  to  view  himself),  with  a 
winning  smile  and  bow  of  ineffable  courtesy  now 
opens  the  "inner  door;"  and  having  whispered  an 
assurance  that  he  will  be  ever  at  your  elbow — explain- 


14  To  the  Reader. 

ing  that  wHcli  refuses  to  explain  itself,  and  at  times 
warning  you  not  to  handle  "  the  things"  too  roughly, 
as  they  are  mostly  air,  and  slightly  made,  at  that — he 
exclaims,  in  silvery  tones,  and  a  manner  new  and 
striking  as  his  words :  Go  in. 


BIOGRAPHICAL. 


IT  is  all  well  enougli  to  talk  of  tlie  ease  witli  wHch 
biograpMes  of  common  ;i]rf^-f-g'eBferals,:s^tesmen, 
and  the  like,  are  writtea.;  it  is  gnite.  anotHer^  thing 
when  the  subject  happeHB.'t6 'be*  i"  gehiiis^  lilte'-Mr. 
Pepper.  I  made  that  discovery  before  I  had  thought 
of  my  work  five  minutes.  Had  not  my  good  angel 
served  me  (proof  of  his  existence  was  getting  neces- 
sary) I  really  think  I  should  have  given  up  the  task — 
appalled  by  my  reverential  notion  of  the  poet,  and  a 
sad  lack  of  material.  Indeed,  I  had  at  last  reached 
that  pitiable  state — oppressed  by  the  necessity  of  say- 
ing something  under  this  head,  and  the  fear  of  not 
being  able  to  say  it — I  fell  to  asking  of  the  circum- 
ambient air,  in  a  feeble  whimper.  Why  was  I  born  ?  in 
the  received  style  of  heroes  (and  girls)  in  a  bad  way. 


l6  Biographical 

The  surrounding  ether  keeping  a  judicious  silence  on 
the  subject,  notwithstanding  several  urgent  prayers 
for  a  confidential  communication,  I  made  up  mjmind 
it  didn't  know  why  I  was  born — and  was  just  discuss- 
ing the  expediency  of  extreme  measures,  when  the 
step  of  a  mercurial  youth  smote  my  ear,  as  also  the 
finale  of  that  stirring  air,  "Pop  goes  the  weasel," 
whistled  by  the  same  young  person.  He  burst  into 
my  room — displayed  a  package — I  seized  it  eagerly — 
I  read  it  by  intuition :  and  pop !  went  the  weasel  of 
my  wo^s'I  /  With'  tfeEibjiig  hands  I  gave  the  boy  a 
cent;-xmeai;iing'.ofcouT:-se  a- quarter — and  soon  he  left 
md  to 'liiy' bliss:  .   •.  ••  • 

The  package  was  from  Mr.  Podd.  This  extract 
from  the  accompanying  note  will  explain  its  object : 
"  Hearing  that  a  Person  (and  that  Person  an  honored 
Friend),  who  considered  Mr.  Pepper  in  his  true 
light,  was  about  to  Unfold  him  to  the  World; 
and  remembering  the  Buckler  of  Obscurity  which 
was  once  the  principal  garment  of  that  Infant  Genus  ; 
I  have  concluded  to  supply  that  Person  and,  through 
him,  the  rest  of  our  fellow  creatures,  with  a  Yiew  of 
his  early  life.  Divested  of  that  Appendage." 

Now  for  the  naked  truth  and  Mr.  Podd's  paper; 


Biographical.  17 

for  whicli  he  will  please  accept,  here,  the  thanks  of 
one  who  ranks  him  second  only  to  the  great  Pote 
himself: 

GENUS:    A   SKETCH. 

"  A  Ceeek.  a  House,  a  lowly  Tenement,  on  that, 
creek.  A  Boy,  a  Small  boy,  in  that  creek,  Paddling. 
Geese  in  the  Distance.  That  Creek,  every  Drop  of 
which  is  sacred,  is  Sqnab  Creek.  That  Tenement  is 
the  Kesidence  of  the  elder  Mr.  Pepper.  Those  Geese 
are  his.  But  who  is  the  Child  with  the  Golden  Locks  ? 
That  is  the  future  Individual,  Mr.  K.  N.  Pepper, 
Esq.  He  Paddles  as  only  a  Poet  can  Paddle :  and 
grows  up  as  only  a  Poet  can  grow  up. 

"  Genus  tells  him  he  must  not  mind  his  Father :  and 
he  does  not  mind  that  Father.  He  has  been  destined 
to  Dig.  Genus  Dig  ?  Genus  can  not  Dig :  genus  does 
not  Dig !  He  Soars,  living  on  Apples.  But  that  great 
and  mighty  Spirit  could  not  express  itself  in  a  manner 
to  do  justice  to  hardly  Any  thing.  It  often  felt 
Ashamed  of  itself  Only  once  (in  its  twelf  year)  did 
it  do  much.  But  what  more  do  we  want  ?  What 
will  we  have  ? 

"  Here  it  is,  with  the  stile  preserved.     It  has  been 


1 8  Biographical. 

in  my  Possession  upward  of  ten  year ;  and  I  know  it 
Genuine.     Notice  how  Brief  it  is : 

A-FISHIN. 

"  Wen  I  go  a-fisliin 
I  kepe  a-wishin 
With  al  mi  mite 
fur  fish  to  Bite 
Wen  i  ketch  small 
i  fele  no  fun 
Wen  i  ketch  biger 
i  say  thats  the  figer 
ef  you  wos  moar  fish 
ide  hev  my  wish 
after  al  ive  tryde 
i  ant  Satisfyde 
fishin  is  smal 
onles  you  git  god  Hoi  demosthens  4  corns  5  guly^ 

"  How  Wonderful  and  Good  that  is !  Genus  was 
then  but  twelve  ! 

"As  Mr.  Pepper  may  Prefer  to  write  an  Auto  Biro- 
graphy  of  himself  himself^  I  cannot  be  asked  to  Do  it 
without  Pain.  The  World  would  rather  I  would 
not.  The  World  will  wait  with  Pleasure  for  Mr. 
Pepper.     It  will  be  enough  if  I  say  that  after  his 


Biographical.  ig 

Flash  of  Genus  at  twelve,  I  watched  over  the  tender 
Twig  of  Mr.  Pepper's  Brain  until  it  grew  into  the 
Hardened  Wood  you  now  see  it. 

"  He  often  had  pains  in  his  Bowels.  Severe  as  they 
was,  he  bore  them.  It  does  me  good  to  write :  He 
Bore  Them.  His  Genus  told  him  not  to  take  Cam- 
pher.  He  did  not  take  Campher.  No  true  Poet  will 
repine  at  the  Severity  of  internal  Pains.  They  School 
him :  they  make  him  Great. 

''  I  watched  over  all  of  Mr.  Pepper's  Poems.  I 
rejoiced  when  his  first  Master  Piece  was  wrote.  I 
also  rejoiced  when  the  second  one  came  into  existence. 
I  have  been  in  a  continual  state  of  rejoicing  ever  since. 

''If  he  had  not  gone  into  the  Country,  to  be  alone, 
and  commune  with  the  Voice  of  Kature,  he  would 
not  have  wrote  to  me.  Then  my  name  would  never 
appeared  to  a  JSTote  in  the  Knickerbocker.  But 
when  that  letter  came,  I  knew  it  belonged  to  the 
World.  And  in  giving  it  to  the  Owner,  I  found  my 
Humble  Name  throwed  in. 

"  Such  as  it  is,  and  being,  as  I  am,  the  Bosom  Friend 
of  Genus,  I  hope  the  World  is  not  Averse  to 
"Its  Humble  Friend, 

"P.  Pepper  Podd.'* 


20  Biographical. 

Thanks,  dear  Podd  !  "  The  World  "  owes  you  much, 
for  this ;  and  how  fervently  it  is  to  be  hoped  you  may 
get  your  due ! 

I  do  not  well  know  what  can  be  added  to  the  com- 
prehensive sketch  of  Mr.  Podd's.  The  subject  of  this 
memoir  had  few  adventures,  during  the  eight  years 
in  which  his  genius  was  a-blossoming.  Like  that  of 
a  kindred  spirit  (Shakspeare,)  his  seems  to  have  been 
rather  a  tame  youth ;  affording  no  salient  points  to 
any  but  the  most  elaborate  biographer.  He  did  not 
even  steal  a  deer,  or  small  dog.  TJie  tranquillity  of 
his  life,  during  this  period,  was  ruffled  by  nothing 
more  tempestuous  than  an  occasional  thrashing  at  the 
hands  of  his  father ;  who  seems,  rather  unreasonably, 
to  have  insisted  on  having  his  son  do  violence  to  his 
instincts  by  occasional  vulgar  work.  But  we  may 
forgive  the  elder  Pepper  these  rude  inflictions:  he 
thought  he  was  right,  undoubtedly.  And  he  was  un- 
consciously perfecting  his  son's  genius;  for  the  "Divine 
Flatness"*  is  conditioned  on  a  certain  amount  of  suf- 
fering. Little  did  the  harsh  father  think  that  while 
he  "tanned  the  hide"  of  his  son,  he  dusted  both  his 
jacket  and  mind ! 

*  Mrs.  Partington. 


Biographical.  2 1 

Passing  over,  then,  the  petty  incidents  of  those 
eight  years :  gladly  leaving  them  to  some  future  and 
more  drivelHng  biographer,  we  find  him  at  twenty 
obeying  the  now  well-defined  instincts  of  his  higher 
nature,  and  taking  a  stand  on  the  ramparts  of  poetry, 
as  one  of  the  sentinels  of  that  perfecter  taste  which 
the  rude  world  is  ever  assailing. 

How  naturally  do  we  advert  to  his  First  Great 
Poem,  which  burst  on  the  world  more  than  four  years 
ago,  and  dazzles  it  a  little  even  now !  There  is  some 
mystery  connected  with  this  poem,  that  does  not 
attach  to  the  later  ones.  It  was  first  sent  to  one  C. 
Conklin  Neppins,  editor  of  a  Magazine  called  the 
Quog  Ladies'  Litery  Oem;  but  as  he  was  himself  a 
poet,  of  small  capacity  but  ridiculous  pretensions,  he 
saw  how  imminent  was  the  cutting  of  his  literary 
throat  with  the  razor  of  a  greater  genius,  and  was 
silent.  When  Mr  Pepper  had  grown  tired,  waiting 
for  Neppins'  recognition,  he  sent  a  copy  of  the  poem, 
which  he  had  fortunately  preserved,  to  a  man  above 
these  petty  jealousies,  Mr.  Clark,  of  the  Knicker- 
hocker  ;  and  with  it  the  following  note : 


22  Biographical. 

"  demosthenes,  4  corners, 
"febuerry  the5, 1853. 

"Mr.  0. 

"  in  mi  distres  &  travil  i  am  4st  to  apeal  to  you  to 
redres  mi  greaviances,  which  hes  ben  al  but  toar  nakid  by  the 
roothlis  edditer  ov  the  quog  ladys  Htery  Gem.  i  cent  the  en- 
cloaged  specimin  ov  blanc  vers  to  him,  &  he  oanly  remarc  with 
a  noath  it  wos  too  blanc  fur  his  collums.  ef  you  shood  onforti- 
netly  thine  diferen  you  willov  coarsfaver  your  reders  bi  a  printin 
ov  it,  to  sho  that  Genus  aint  confined  concloosively  to  the  larg 
Potes. 

"  sir  yours  with  Kespec, 

"K  N.  Pepper." 

What  a  firm  and  undying  consciousness  of  Genius 
does  that  note  present!  See  how  nobly  the  editor 
there  addressed  came  to  the  rescue : — 

"  It  must  have  been  sheer  envy,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  C.  Conklin 
Neppins,  that  excluded  the  following  stirring  'pome'  from  the 
columns  of  '  The  Quog  Litery  Qem.^  We  take  an  early  occasion 
to  do  justice  to  the  talents  of  the  author,  K.  N.  Pepper,  Esq., 
who  has  '  chose  '  the  hydraulic  measure,  because,  next  to  hydra- 
metersj  he  seems  to  consider  it  the  most  *  eflfectooal ' : " 


Biographical.  23 


SUBJECK :  A  COLUSION  BETWEEN  A  ALEGAITER 
AND  A  WOTTER-SNAIK:  TRIUMTH  OV  THE 
WOTTER-SNAIK :  DETH  OV  THE  ALEGAITER : 
CONCLOOSION. 

Their  is  a  niland  onto  a  river  lyin, 

Wich  runs  into  Gautimaly,  a  worm  Kedentry 

lyin  near  the  Troppicks,  cuverd  with  sand  : 

Here  &  their  a  symtum  ov  a  Wilow, 

Hangin  ov  its  umberajus  Hms  &  branches 

over  the  clere  streme  a-meanderin  fur  below. 

This  wos  the  Hoam  ov  the  now  silent  Alegaiter, 

Wen  not  into  his  uther  Elemen  confind : 

Here  he  wood  set  onto  his  egs  a  slepe, 

With  1  i  observant  ov  flis  and  uther  pasin 

objecks.     a  wile  it  kep  a-goin  on  so : 

Fereles  ov  dainger  wos  the  hapy  Alegaiter ! 

But  alas  I  in  a  nevil  Our  he  wos  4st  to 

Walk !  that  dreme  ov  Blis  wos  too  swete  fur  him. 

1  mornin  the  son  aroas  with  unusooal  splender : 

Wich  also  did  our  Alegaiter,  a-comin  from  the  wotter, 

His  scails  a-flingin  ov  the  rais  ov  the  son  bacc 

to  the  fountin-hed  wich  thay  ariginly  cum  frum. 

But  hevin  hed  nothin  fur  to  ete  fur  sum  time,  he 

Wos  slepy,  &  gapt,  in  a  short  time,  widely, 


24  Biographical. 

Unfoaldin  sune  a  welth  ov  perl-wite  teth. 

the  rais  ov  the  son  sune  shet  his  sinister  i, 

Becos  ov  thayr  mutooal  splender  &  wormth. 

the  Evil  Our  (wich  i  sed)  wos  now  cum : 

Evidently  a  good  chans  fur  a  wotter-snaik 

ov  the  large  Speshy — wich  sune  apeard 

into  the  horrison,  nere  the  bang  ware  repoasd 

Camly  in  slepe  the  Alegaiter  be4  spoken  ov. 

about  60  foot  wos  his  Length,  (not  the  'gaiter,) 

&  he  wos  aperiently  a  wel  propoarshund  snaik. 

Wen  he  wos  al  ashoar,  he  glared  onto 

the  iland  with  approval — ^but  wos  sune 

"  Astonished  with  the  vew  &  lost  to  wonder,"  (frum  Wots.) 

(fur  gest  then  he  begund  fur  to  se  the  Alegaiter.) 

Bein  a  nateral  Ennemy  ov  hisn,  he  werct  hisself 

into  a  fury,  also  a  ni  posishun. 

Be4  the  Alegaiter  wel  cood  ope 

His  i,  (in  uther  werds,  perceve  his  dainger,) 

the  Snaik  hed  envellupd  his  body  gest  19 

times  with  ''foalds  voloominous  &  vast,"  (frum  milton,) 

&  hed  toar  of  severil  Scails  into  the  confusion, 

Besides  a-squesin  him  awfuly  onto  his  stomick. 

gest  then,  bi  a  fortinat  turn  into  his  affairs, 

He  ceased  into  his  mouth  the  cairless  tale 

ov  the  unreflectin  wotter-Snaik ! — groan  desperat, 

He,  findin  that  his  Tale  wos  fast,  squesed 

terrible,  wile  thay  roald  al  over  the  iland. 


Biographical.  25 

it  "wos  a  wel-conducktid  Afair :  no  nois 

Disturbd  the  Harmony  ov  the  seen — exsep 

I's,  wen  a  Wilow  wos  snaped  into  bi  the  roahn. 

each  ov  the  combatens  hedent  a  minit  fur  holerin. 

So  the  Conflic  wos  naterally  tremenjus ! 

But  sune  bi  grate  4s  the  tale  wos  bit  compleat- 

ly  of:  but  the  eggzershun  wos  too  much 

Fur  his  dellicat  Constitooshun.  he  felt  a  compreshun 

onto  his  chest,  &  generaly  over  his  boddy : 

Wen  he  egsprest  his  brethin  it  wos  with  grait 

Dificulty  that  he  felt  inspird  agin  I's  moar. 

ov  coars  this  Stait  must  sufer  a  Revolooshun. 

So  the  Alegaiter  giv  but  1  yel,  &  egspird. 

the  wotter-Snaik  realed  hisself  of,  &  sirvayd, 

Fur  say  10  minits,  the  condishun  ov 

His  Fo :  then,  a-wunderin  wot  maid  his  tale  hirt, 

He  sloly  went  of  for  to  cool. 

Poor  hapiles  Alegaiter  1  tis  sad  to  thine 
Like  the  Lemons  you  onfortinatly  ^vent  in. 
But  rest  onto  the  Sand,  ef  you  hevent  roald  into  the  wotter  : 
&  rest  into  the  Wotter,  ef  so  be  youv  roald  in. 

How  mermy  air  ap  to  thine  not,  wen  in  dainger, 
But  fall  into  slepe  cairles !  sech  air  woak 
Frekently  wen  al  cuite  too  lait,  &  thay  sadly  fele 
the  Embrais  of  the  Enemy :  growin  weker  &  weker, 
2 


26  Biographical. 

Be4  thay  no  it  thay  cant  fech  thayr  breth- 
&  the  consekens  is,  thay  sune  di. 


From  the  time  of  the  appearance  of  this  poem,  the 
"  movements"  of  the  distinguished  Pote  are  sufficiently 
well  known,  through  his  own  writings,  and  those  of 
his  excellent  relative,  Mr.  Podd.  Hence  the  -author 
of  this  brief  biography  has  little  more  to  do.  That 
little  he  has  preferred  to  divide  into  lesser  bits,  which 
the  reader  will  find  prefixed  to  the  several  effusions 
of  the  bard,  as  they  appear  in  this  volume.  Had  not 
Mr.  Podd  already  furnished  an  eloquent  analysis  of 
Mr.  Pepper's  character  (contained  in  his  note  intro- 
ducing one  of  the  poems),  it  would  be  proper  for  me 
to  fulfil  the  whole  duty  of  man  as  a  Biographer,  and 
attempt  that  difficult  task.  But,  thankful  that  my 
labors  have  been  thus  essentially  lightened,  and  con- 
gratulating both  my  readers  and  myself  that  I  have 
now  so  nearly  finished,  I  close  this  sadly  inadequate 
sketch,  with  the  expression  of  my  deliberate  convic- 
tion, that  Fame — "if  she  understand  herself:  and 
she  think  she  do  " — will  "  never  desert "  her  favorite 
Pepper. 


ASTRONOMY: 

IN   A   FAMILIAR    (bUT   NOT   IMPERTINENT)    LECTURE. 
O 

Let  us  reason  together. — Holloway. 

I  hope  here  be  truths. — Measure  for  Measure. 


INTRODUCTORY. 

Select  a  clear  night.  Now  take  a  plummet,  and  if  you  hold 
the  string  between  your  thumb  and  finger,  so  that  the  ball  is 
free  to  move,  it  will  not  move,  but  point  directly  toward  the 
centre  of  the  earth.  To  be  frank,  this  has  nothing  whatever  to 
do  with  our  subject.  I  may  remark,  however,  that  if  it  pointed 
directly  up,  instead  of  down,  it  would  call  your  attention  to  a 
number  of  glistening  little  spots  on  the  firmament,  and  perhaps 
one  large  one,  all  of  which  you  have  probably  noticed  before. 
If  you  have  not,  you  will  be  obhged  to  me  for  turning  your 
attention  that  way:  and  I  must  say,  parenthetically,  I  think 
this  the  dullest  audience  I  ever  lectured  before.  You  will 
please  not  applaud.  It  is  of  these  celestial  luminaries  I  intend 
now  to  speak. 

With  the  highest  esteem, 

I  am,  very  truly  yours, 

JACQUES  MAUEICE. 


28  Astronomy. 

HISTORICAL. 

ASTEOlSrOMY  is  that  science  whicli  treats  of  the 
opinions  of  people  in  regard  to  the  heavenly 
bodies.  In  the  light  of  this  definition,  perhaps  it 
would  not  be  proper  to  call  it  one  of  the  "  exact 
sciences ;"  but  fortunately  for  the  objects  of  this  lec- 
ture it  will  not  be  necessary  to  class  it  at  all.  The 
science  was  invented  by  an  Italian,  whose  name  was 
Tronomi.  As  Christian  names  were  unknown  in  the 
remote  age  in  which  he  flourished,  he  was  distinguished 
from  his  elder  and  less  renowned  brother  in  the  man- 
ner peculiar  to  the  period,  and  which  still  obtains 
among  primitive  nations — as  for  instance  the  aborigi- 
nes of  America.  Like  many  other  scientific  men, 
even  of  our  own  day,  in  ordinary  affairs  he  was  very 
much  of  a  donkey,  and  of  course  was  better  known 
to  the  populace  by  his  mistakes  than  his  discoveries. 
Indeed,  with  the  usual  justice  of  popular  decisions,  he 
came  to  be  called  "Ass  Tronomi;"  and,  while  the 
name  obtained,  it  was  in  time  transferred  from  the 
savan  to  the  science  of  which  he  was  the  founder.  He 
was  the  friend  of  Paul,  afterwards  the  Apostle,  and 
died  about  the  year  twelve. 


Astronomy.  29 

GENERTAL  VIEW. 
The  heavenly  bodies  have  no  resemblance  whatever 
to  human  bodies,  or  the  bodies  of  the  lower  animals, 
and  are  not  necessarily  in  heaven;  but  the  word 
Heaven,  in  an  astronomical  sense,  is  supposed  to  mean 
simply  Space,  and  therefore  may  include  places  which 
cannot  be  found  in  the  biblical  heaven.  These 
heavenly  bodies  consist  of  fixed  stars,  planets,  and 
comets ;  of  which,  those  first  named  are  by  far  the 
most  numerous  ;  indeed,  it  is  supposed  that  were  the 
stars  no  larger  than  hazelnuts  it  would  take  an  able- 
bodied  man,  forty-five  years  of  age,  twenty  years  to 
measure  them  in  a  half-bushel  measure,  or  rather 
longer  by  the  peck.  It  is  however  believed  that, 
upon  an  average,  their  size  is  somewhat  greater  than 
that  of  the  IN^ut  with  which  they  have  been  compared. 
At  their  present  immense  distance  from  us,  they  are 
not  as  great  objects  of  interest  as  they  would  be  if 
nearer.  It  is  thought  by  some  philosophers  that,  were 
they  as  convenient  to  the  hand  as  railroad  stocks  or 
government  securities,  this  interest  would  reach  as 
high  as  twenty -five  per  cent.  It  will  readily  be  seen 
that  their  distance  from  us  must  be  enormous,  when 


30  Astronomy. 

we  reflect  that  none  compute  it  to  be  less  tlian  two 
sabbath-days' journey,  while*  some  have  placed  it  at 
upwards  of  five  thousand  miles.  It  is  believed  by 
many  that,  notwithstanding  the  anxiety  sometimes 
evinced  by  poets  and  others  to  convert  favorite  stars 
into  permanent  residences,  they  would  prove  but 
indifferent  lodging-places,  except  perhaps  in  the  sum- 
mer months.  In  the  familiar  expression  "  My  stars !" 
one  is  supposed  to  refer  to  stellar  property  of  the 
above-mentioned  description  to  which  his  title  has 
been  proved,  and  which  has  been  duly  surveyed  and 
staked  out. 

Upon  paper,  stars  are  usually  represented  as  having 
five  points;  theatrical  stars  generally  have  more. 
These  points,  in  the  first  instance,  are  the  rays ;  but  it 
has  sometimes  been  found  that  the  innumerable  points 
of  an  actress  do  not  make  the  expected  raise. 

FIXED  STARS. 
The  fixed  stars — so  named  by  some  Yankee,  to 
signify  that  they  have  been  properly  repaired — are 
now  pretty  generally  believed  to  be  suns.  It  is  a 
significant  fact,  however,  that  many  of  them  have 
female  names.     From  their  singular  habit  of  twink- 


Astronomy.  31 

ling  on  all  occasions,  they  look  like  so  many  strug- 
gling beetles  wliich  have  been  fixed  to  tbe  wall  with 
a  pin.  Many  suppose  them  to  have  been  named 
from  this  circumstance,  rather  than  from  the  one  first 
named ;  but  I  think  that  no  one  can  weigh  the  claims 
of  the  two  hypotheses  calmly  and  dispassionately  and 
fail  to  decide  in  favor  of  the  Kepairing  Theory — as  it 
has  begu  beautifully  named  by  a  distinguished  mo- 
dern astronomer,  whose  name  I  am  forbid  mentioning 
by  an  innate  sense  of  propriety. 

No  one  should  think  meanly  of  the  stars  for  mak- 
ing their  greatest  displays  on  the  clearest  nights: 
man,  himself  so  arrogant,  ought  never  to  censure  the 
pride  of  a  little  star ! 

THE  PLANETS. 

All  the  heavenly  bodies  of  any  consequence,  with 
the  two  exceptions  of  the  fixed  stars  and  the  comets, 
are  Planets.  They  are  between  thirty  and  fifty  in 
number,  if  we  include  the  asteroids — and  perhaps  it 
is  but  kind  to  do  so,  since  it  is  only  of  late  these  have 
had  the  justice  done  them  to  be  recognised  at  all. 
The  planets  do  not  consider  it  a  mark  of  disrespect 
in  anyone  to  call  them  by  their  given  names ;  though 


32  Astronomy. 

tliey  do  not  "come"  wlien  thus  called,  sooner  tlian 
the  President  of  the  United  States,  or  a  very  bad 
dog.  They  revolve  about  a  certain  fixed  star  which 
their  own  inhabitants  have  named  the  Sun ;  his  real 
name,  however,  is  Daniel  Phoebus.  This  Sun  gives 
away  annually  immense  quantities  of  light  and  heat ; 
which  is  very  good  of  him,  considering  the  pitch  at 
which  the  times  have  arrived.  In  truth,  ]|e  is  so 
kind  and  generous  and  unsuspecting,  that  many  of 
his  pretended  friends  are  enabled  to  work  him  vast 
injury.  The  planets  are  remarkable  for  their  finan- 
cial ability  in  effecting  loans  of  the  before-mentioned 
necessaries  from  him,  and  coming  around  him  regu- 
larly year  after  year.  Instead  of  returning  the  Sun's 
light  when  they  have  done  with  it,  they  distribute  it 
broadcast  among  their  friends  and  dependants — which 
perhaps  is  more  creditable  than  keeping  it  to  them- 
selves, as  they  do  the  heat ;  and  this  circumstance 
would  afford  us  encouragement  to  hope  for  their  ulti- 
mate reclamation  were  it  not  that  they  have  continued 
in  their  present  circle  of  dissipation  beyond  the  me- 
mory of  the  oldest  inhabitant.  These  impositions  are 
likely  to  continue  so  long  as  their  warm-hearted  sub- 
ject has  light  to  lend,  or  is  represented  in  the  pictures 


Astronomy.  33 

with  a  face  of  sucli  rotundity  and  preternatural  good- 
nature as  must  continually  encourage  them. 

Yenus,  being  the  only  female  among  the  planets, 
and  a  very  handsome  one  besides,  should  have  the 
place  of  honor,  and  is  therefore  mentioned  first  on  the 
list.  It  will  excite  the  sympathies  of  the  tender- 
hearted to  learn  that  Yenus  has  all  her  life  been  per- 
secuted— ^in  point  of  fact,  overwhelmed,  with  the 
impertinent  attentions  of  the  other  planets.  It  is 
believed  she  was  formerly  partial  to  one 

Maes,  a  warlike  neighbor  of  hers,  with  a  remarka- 
bly red  face ;  but  their  many  quarrels  and  fallings-out 
came  to  disturb  the  harmony  of  the  spheres  to  such  a 
degree,  that  it  was  found  necessary  to  separate  them. 

Eakth  therefore  stepped  between ;  but  while  the 
peace  has  been  effectually  preserved,  I  regret  to  state 
that  he  has  been  made  the  subject  of  much  unjust 
obloquy  and  reproach.  It  is  thought,  however,  that 
•  Earth  will  keep  moving  on — performing  his  accus- 
tomed revolutions  as  jger  programme  till  further 
notice. 

Jupiter  is  a  very  good-sized  planet — indeed,  quite 
large  for  his  age — and  is  expected  soon  to  be  old 
enough  to  set  up  for  himself     He  has  suffered  ex- 

2* 


34  Astronomy. 

tremely,  at  times,  from  water  on  the  brain ;  and  that 
fluid  enters  largely  into  his  general  composition.  In- 
deed, the  theory  is  gathering  strength  that  he  has 
wholly  changed  to  water — whether  salt  or  fresh  can- 
not be  learned.  Many  interesting  speculations  might 
be  indulged  in  here,  one  of  which  I  may  be  pardoned 
for  treating  at  length. 

The  pressure  of  water,  even  at  moderate  depths,  is 
known  to  be  immense.  At  the  depth  of  one  foot, 
perhaps,  it  is  scarcely  perceptible ;  but  at  one  mile  it 
would  be  sufficient  to  force  a  confession  of  alienage 
from  the  obdurate  Matsell.  Think  then  of  the  cen- 
tral parts  of  Jupiter  as  sustaining  the  incalculable 
weight  of  a  superincumbent  mass  of  water  a  thousand 
miles  or  so  in  thickness.  Why,  we  cannot  resist  the 
conviction  that  the  whole  of  the  interior  of  that  watery 
planet,  after  we  reach  the  depth  of  two  or  three  hun- 
dred miles,  must  be  squeezed  entirely  dry  ! 

The  energy  of  my  language,  with  a  theme  so  glo- 
rious, will  certainly  be  pardoned.  To  the  astronomer, 
the  reflection  is  one  to  move  the  heart,  and  throw  the 
insensible  perspiration  out  on  the  surface. 

^ATUEN  is  a  young  planet  who  has  the  weakness  to 


Astronomy.  35 

think  Mmself  handsome.  He  is  quite  vain  of  a  num- 
ber of  rings — only  two,  I  think,  after  all — which  have 
been  presented  him  by  some  infatuated  foreign  planet 
of  the  other  sex.  He  is  in  no  way  remarkable,  and 
we  pass  to 

Uranus,  or  You-rein-us — who  named  himself  out 
of  compliment  to  the  Sun,  at  a  time  when  he  supposed 
himself  the  farthest  from  the  sway  of  that  luminary, 
and  that  the  title  might  serve  the  latter  as  a  perpetual 
reminder  of  the  allegiance  of  all  his  subjects.  He  is 
sometimes  called  Herschel — from  the  two  words  her 
and  shell;  but  the  difficulty  of  determining  with  any 
satisfaction  what  female  is  thus  mysteriously  placed 
in  the  possessive  case  has  latterly  thrown  the  name 
into  disfavor.     Uranus  is  a  good  planet.     Little 

Mercury  is  page  and  errand-boy  to  the  San,  who 
keeps  the  sprightly  planet  about  his  person,  and  may 
be  said  almost  to  carry  him  in  his  pocket.  Being  so 
near  the  fountain  of  heat.  Mercury  never  freezes,  and 
thinks  nothing  of  going  up  to  five  hundred  in  the 
shade. 

A  crop  of  little  planets — at  present  called  Asteroids — 
are  springing  up  around  Mars  and  Yenus,  and  four 


36  Astronomy. 

of  tliem  have  gone  in  society  for  a  considerable 
time."^  They  seem  disposed  to  band  together  and 
move  in  a  circle  by  themselves.  It  will  not  be  neces- 
sary (or  indeed  easy)  to  repeat  their  names. 

Hanging  on  the  confines  of  the  Sun's  estates,  and 
apparently  looking  for  a  weak  place  in  the  fence,  a 
planet   called  LEVERRiERf  has  been  observed   and 

*  Should  any  question  the  soundness  of  the  theory  wrapped 
up  in  this  sentence,  they  will  find  it  strongly  supported  in 
"  Horn's  Examiner  into  the  Laws  of  Nature,"  in  which  may  be 
found  the  following  eloquent  passage : 

"  The  planets  Jupiter,  Saturn,  Herschel,  and  so  on,  bring  forth 
their  seeds  in  like  manner.  What  a  lot  of  young  planets  they 
have  revolving  about  them  I" 

Professor  Horn,  the  learned  author  of  the  above-mentioned 
work,  is  a  deep  thinker  and  profound  philosopher.  In  the  samep 
book  may  be  found  this  remarkable  axiom : 

"A  man  or  woman  possessing  a  contracted  skull,  prevents 
expansion  of  mind  in  man." 

Farther  extracts  from  my  learned  friend  will  be  given  in  the 
course  of  the  lecture.  His  is  no  common  mind;  remote  ages 
will  do  me  honor  for  having  been  the  first  to  say  it. 

t  This  planet  was  discovered  by  a  Frenchman ;  and  as  a  proud 
and  perpetual  assertion  that  Uranus,  discovered  by  an  English 
rival,  was  not  (he  very  last  and  farthest  of  the  planets,  he  called 


Astronomy.  37 

warned  off  the  premises.  He  has  the  appearance  and 
actions  of  a  vagabond,  and  it  is  hoped  he  will  sheer 
off  in  time  to  save  himself  trouble. 

This  I  fear  quite  exhausts  our  list  of  planets  for 
the  season.  I  may  say,  however,  we  are  in  constant 
communication  with  discoverers  (and  manufacturers) 
and  hope  to  be  able  soon  to  swell  the  number  very 
considerably. 

MOONSHINE:  AN  ANECDOTE. 
One  day,  in  turning  over  the  playthings  which  had 
amused  his  youth,  old  father  Sun  discovered  a  num- 
ber of  ten-pin  balls,  parts  of  various  sets.  It  occurred 
to  him  that  here  was  an  acceptable  present  for  his 
little  planets.  So,  calling  out — "Look  sharp,  my 
lads  1"  he  threw  them  all  out  from  an  upper  window, 
in  one  handful.  A  glorious  scramble  ensued.  Jupiter, 
being  very  much  of  a  gentleman,  would  take  but  four, 
though  entitled,  from  his  age  and  respectability,  to  at 
least  half  of  them.     Earth,  having  been  unaccount- 

it  the  very-er — or,  in  French,  Le  Verrier.  Some  have  proposed 
naming  it  Neptune  or  Nap-tune,  as  its  "  part,"  in  ther  perpetual 
concerted  celestial  music,  must,  from  its  mortal  slowness,  have  a 
tolerably  soporific  efifect. 


38  Astronomy. 

ably  timid  on  that  occasion,  secured  but  one.  But  tbe 
forward  and  greedy  Saturn  was  known  to  have  seven 
after  the  division,  if  division  it  may  be  called,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  secreted  several  more.  What 
became  of  the  others,  is  not  certainly  known.  Uranus, 
it  seems,  got  several — six,  it  is  said ;  and  some  declare 
they  have  seen  one  in  possession  of  Mars.  Nobody 
was  gallant  enough  to  bring  one  to  Yenus,  so  she 
remained  without. 

But  the  pith  of  the  story  remains  to  be  told.  He 
discovered  that  they  who  had  been  fortunate  enough 
to  secure  any  of  the  balls,  had  conceived  the  idea  of 
having  solar  systems  of  their  own ;  and  having  set 
their  globular  gifts  flying  around  their  heads,  in  imi- 
tation of  their  great  patron,  were  nearly  bursting  in 
the  effort  to  afford  them  the  necessary  light.  This 
sight  so  tickled  the  ribs  of  old  Phoebus,  that  a  fit  of 
inextinguishable  laughter  seized  him, — so  to  this  day 
it  is  animating  his  visage.  In  the  excess  of  his  sly 
humor,  he  allowed  himself  to  shine  on  the  little 
moons — well  knowing  the  planets  would  be  deceived 
into  the  belief  that  they  were  doing  it  themselves.  It 
is  even  said  that  the  infant  planets  which  have  sprung 
up  between  Mars  and  Venus  are  only  fragments  of  a 


Astronomy.  39 

larger  planet  which  had  burst  itself  in  the  ridiculous 
endeavor  to  illuminate  its  moon.  This,  however,  is 
not  probable.  The  lava  from  eruptions,  so  frequent  on 
the  earth,  is  also  thought  to  be  no  more  than  the  per- 
spiration consequent  on  similar  and  super-terrestrial 
exertions. 

MORAL  EPISODE. 

The  animalcula  which  infest  Earth — called  human 
beings — annoy  him  very  much  by  persistent  attempts 
to  excoriate  him,  and  penetrate  to  his  vital  parts.  It 
makes  him  angry  also  to  be  called  "  Mother  Earth." 
In  one  way  and  another,  they  had  at  one  time  goaded 
him  to  that  pitch  of  madness  that  he  nearly  extermi- 
nated them  by  drowning.  He  has  since  been  sorry 
he  did  not  do  the  work  more  thoroughly.  He  has 
however  contrived  another  method  of  effecting  his 
purpose,  that  bids  fair  to  accomplish  his  end  with 
very  little  trouble  to  himself  By  the  raising  of  little 
wrinkles  and  ridges  on  his  skin  in  various  places,  he 
has  divided  them  off  into  separate  bodies  or  nations  ; 
who  imagine  that  naturally  they  are  each  other's  ene- 
mies, and  have  been  long  engaged  trying  to  extermi- 
nate one  another.  At  the  latest  dates*  there  is  every 
*  Written  in  1855. 


40  Astronomy. 

prospect  of  a  success  equal  to  that  wliicli  attended  the 
exertions  of  the  Kilkenny  cats. 

They  are  intolerably  conceited,  withal ;  and  every 
nation  is  inclined  to  think  every  other  barbarous, 
cruel,  and  rapacious.  There  is,  however,  but  very  lit- 
tle difference  in  this  respect — the  human  nature  per- 
vading them  all.  Yet  one  of  these  is  far  too  modest 
to  praise  itself;  it  is  called  the  Yankee  Nation. 
George  Washington — an  individual  who  flourished  a 
sword  in  the  eighteenth  century,  and  left  his  mark — 
belonged  to  this  nation ;  and  so  do  a  great  many  at 
the  present  day.  We  belong  to  it.  There  are  over 
twenty-five  millions  of  people  now  living  in  this 
country :  and  the  most  of  these  are  slaves — some  to 
others,  and  the  remainder  to  themselves.  [Who  can 
think  of  his  country  without  emotion !  My  enthu- 
siasm should  now  be  pardoned ;  for,  having  carried 
me  away,  it  has  at  length  in  the  kindest  manner 
restored  me  to  society,  friends,  and  my  subject.] 

THE  MOON,  AND  TELESCOPES. 
All  nations  have  united  in  praising  the  Moon  for 
her  modesty  and  good  sense — ^in  both  which  relations 
she  is  quite  above  reproach,  and  stands  unimpeached. 


Astronomy.  41 

An  "exiled  Italian"  once  remarked,  tliat  the  moon 
was  more  useful  to  ns  than  the  sun  ;  because  the  for- 
mer shone  in  the  night,  when  there  was  the  greater 
need  of  light.  The  observation  illustrates  anew  the 
extraordinary  acuteness  and  sense  for  which  his  peo- 
ple have  been  praised  so  long.  We,  therefore,  take 
the  warmest  possible  interest  in  that  luminary,  and 
even  call  her  the  Moon,  as  a  token  of  distinction  and 
pledge  of  encouragement. 

From  the  intense  desire  of  astronomers  to  bring 
the  moon  into  something  like  a  friendly  vicinity, 
they  have  been  led  to  the  invention  of  instruments, 
whose  action  is  calculated  to  entice  her.  The  Tele- 
scope— a  round  instrument,  long  in  use — ^is  in  great 
repute  for  this  purpose  ;  and  one  species,  called  from 
its  habit  of  mind  the  reflecting  telescope,  is  said  to 
possess  a  sort  of  fascination  for  her.  This  fact  illus- 
trates in  a  remarkable  manner  the  good  sense  which 
has  been  already  mentioned  as  one  of  her  attributes. 
Many  claim,  however,  that  she  will  come  farther  for 
a  good  refracting  telescope  than  for  the  other  kind ; 
and  a  somewhat  peculiar  experience  inclines  me  to 
this  view  of  the  case  myself. 


42  Astronomy. 

SOMEWHAT  PECULIAR  EXPERIENCE. 
A  few  years  since  I  sat  about  improving,  and,  if 
possible,  perfecting  tbe  refracting  telescope.  It  is 
well  known  (to  at  least  jSfty  men  of  science)  tbat  the 
great  desideratum  in  this  instrument  is  a  material 
which  shall  unite  in  itself  quite  a  number  of  nearly 
opposite  qualities ;  such  as,  for  a  single  instance, 
high  "refractive"  with  a  low  "dispersive"  power — 
there  being  a  limit  to  the  size  of  glass  lenses,  and 
consequently  to  the  number  of  rays  of  light  admit- 
ted from  the  object,  on  account  of  the  rapidity  with 
which  this  fatal  propensity  to  "  disperse"  strengthens 
when  we  increase  their  size  and  refractive  power.* 

*  '  Achromatic  telescopes" — characterized  at  first  as  a  "  lame 
invention"— are  said  to  get  over  this  difficulty  quite  hand- 
somely, notvi^ithstanding  their  rheumatism.  At  the  time  of 
which  I  write,  I  had  not  seen  them.  Mr.  Richard  (vulgarly 
called  Dick),  in  his  Sidereal  Heavens,  speaks  of  Aerial  Tele- 
scopes:  but  I  have  no  time  for  such  light  matters.  He  pro- 
nounces the  Dorpatrick  (sometimes  abbreviated  to  Dorpat) 
Telescope  in  Russia,  a  very  capital  instrument.  He  thinks  it  is 
capable  of  "  multiplying"  almost  as  fast  as  the  Babbage  Calcu- 
lating Machine  ;  and  that  it  can  ''  bring  up"  anything  except  a 
family  of  children  :  domestic  pursuits  being  somewhat  out  of  its 


Astronomy.  '  43 

Having  observed  the  extraordinary  amount  of  light 
wHch.  recently  has  been  received  through  the  Spirit- 
ual mediums,  I  conceived  the  idea  of  doing  away 
entirely  with  the  secondary  lenses,  and  of  filling  the 
instrument  with  fourth-proof  whiskey.  I  am  re- 
joiced to  announce  that  the  experiment  was  success- 
ful, though  unfortunate. 

REMARKABLE  LUNAR  PHENOMENA. 

Having  at  length  made  everything  ready,  and  pre- 
pared myself  by  silent  meditation, — not  forgetting  to 
establish  a  communication  with  the  medium  by  means 
of  a  stop-cock  in  the  side  of  the  instrument, — I 
covered  the  moon  with  my  telescope,  and  took  a  view. 
For  a  space,  all  was  darkness.  At  length  a  voice  of 
more  than  mortal  sweetness  exclaimed,  in  thrilling, 
technical  accents, — "Uncover  your  object-glass!" 
The  darkness  was  accounted  for.  In  my  haste  and 
agitation  I  had  endeavored  to  look  through  a  plate 
of  brass,  of  considerable  thickness.  I  did  as  I  was 
directed;    and  as  I  looked  again  I  was  not  disap- 

'scope.  Mr.  Dick  is  not  addicted  to  extravagance  in  his  state- 
ments. Of  his  predictions  it  is  said  that,  mirdbile  diciu  I  they 
all  "come  true,"  as  the  darkey  said  of  the  auger. 


44 


Astronomy. 


pointed  to  find  the  moon  within  eight  rods  of  me.  I 
at  once  observed  that  the  "  man  in  the  moon  "  wa^ 
nothing  more  than  a  huge,  fantastical  erection, — in 
truth,  a  honse; — whose  two  upper  windows,  being 
illuminated,  were  plainly  the  eyes.  In  one  of  these 
windows,  the  sash  being  up,  a  man  in  his  shirt-sleeves 
was  leaning  carelessly,  and  smoking  a  short  black 
pipe.  As  soon  as  he  perceived  me,  he  shaded  his 
eyes  with  his  hand  for  a  moment,  and  then,  as  if 
assured,  started  up  eagerly  and  shouted  at  the  top  of 
his  voice, — "Maurice!  my  old  boy, — ^how  are  you?" 
I  replied,  through  my  tears, — "Yery  well,  thank 
you,  old  fellow, — ^how  are  you?"  "  0,  so-so, — so-so," 
said  he,  as  he  wiped  his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his 
hand;  "the  old  'ooman's  be'n  complaining,  lately, 
and  I'm  a  little  anxious  on  her  account,  but  I'm  very 
well  myself."  His  classic  language  and  elegant  tastes 
at  once  showed  me  he  was  a  gentleman  of  education 
and  refinement.  In  the  course  of  an  animated  con- 
versation with  him,  I  gleaned  facts  which,  while  they 
are  unsurpassed  in  interest,  are  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  the  scientific  world. 


Astronomy  45 

AEROLITES. 

The  mystery  wliicli  has  hitherto  enveloped  these 
singular  and  dangerous  visitants  he  at  once  and 
for  ever  dispelled  by  this  episodical  remark :  "  Them 
'hot  shot'  I  throw  down  once't  in  a  w'ile, — ^how 
often  I've  thought  of  the  fun  they  must  make !  To 
see  a  chap  run  to  pick  'em  up,  and  how  quick  he 
concludes  to  drop  'em! — and  to  hear  him  wonder 
where  the  d — 1  they  come  from,  too ! — 0  !  ho  I  ho  ! 
ho  !  0-0-0 !  ho !  ho !  ho  ! " — and  the  excessive 
laughter  made  him  turn  black  in  the  face. 

ECLIPSES. 
The  marked  frequency  of  eclipses,  of  late,  has 
come  to  be  an  immense  annoyance  to  him.  Many  a 
valuable  day  has  been  lost  to  him  ;  and  many  a  time 
and  oft  has  he  missed  his  way,  being  overtaken  by 
the  sudden  darkness  when  far  from  home.  He  says 
we  on  the  earth  have  no  idea  of  the  terrible  nature 
of  a  solar  eclipse  at  the  moon.  And  indeed  it  must 
be  terrible,  in  its  suddenness,  from  the  absence  of 
that  twilight  shading  which  the  presence  of  an 
atmosphere  would  induce. 


46  Astronomy. 

ATMOSPHERE.  A  BREEZE. 
I  inquired  wliat  possible  nse  one's  lungs  could  be 
to  Mm  where  there  was  no  air?*  "  A  very  proper 
question,"  said  he,  gravely;  "it  is  a  bore  to  be  with- 
out it :  but  my  wife  is  musical ;  and  twenty  times  a 
day  she  gives  me  an  *  Air,  with  variations,'  by  some 
windy  composer, — and  by  the  time  I've  heard  two  or 
three  I  don't  want  anything."  On  the  uttering  of 
this  piece  of  sarcasm,  a  portentous  face  appeared  over 
his  shoulder.  "It's  awful  dull,  up  here,"  said  he, 
after  a  pause :  "  I  wish,  a  thousand  times  a  day,  I  was 
back  to  your  planet."  "What!"  I  exclaimed,  in 
wonder, — "were  you  ever  one  of  us?"  "Why, 
bless  you,  yes  !"  he  replied ;  "  I  come  here  to  fill  the 
place  of  t'other  man."     "Yes!   yes!"   shrieked  his 

*  In  reference  to  this  interesting  subject  Professor  Horn 
remarks  as  follows : — "  It  is  no  wonder  that  the  scientific 
astronomer  can  see  no  atmosphere  round  the  moon  that  carries 
vapors  of  water ;  the  moon  is  too  young  yet ;  the  moon  has  not 
yet  matured.  The  moon  cannot  produce  vegetation  as  yet.  and 
consequently  don't  require  atmosphere  to  carry  off  vapor  of 
water,  until  the  moon  arrives  to  her  degree  of  perfection  to 
bring  forth  vegetation." 


Astronomy.  47 

wife,  tauntingly, — ^no  longer  able  to  contain  herselfj — 
''he  had  to  come,  Maurice, — he  had  to  come!" 
''Hold  your  tongue,  will  ye!"  said  tlie  Benedick, 
sternly, — "  what  do  you  know  about  war  ?"  "  War !" 
she  thundered, — "  it  wasnH  war ! — it  was  that  foolig 
piece  o'  poetry  you  wrote!"  "  Wat  piece,  hussy  ! — 
w'at  piece?— tell  'im  'f  y'  kin !— tell  'im  'f  y'  kin!" 
said  the  husband,  curtly  and  doggedly,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets ;  upon  which  he  ejected  slowly 
a  slender  stream  of  tobacco-juice  from  between  two 
front  teeth.  "  What,  you  wretch ! — do  you  dare  to 
say  you  didn't  write  'Hi  diddle  diddle!'  and  git  sent 
here  for  speakin'  so  disrespectful  of  the  moon!" 
"  Wrote  't  y'self,  wife, — ^know  y'  did !"  said  the  man, 
nervously,  and  looking  uneasily  at  her  from  the 
corners  of  his  eyes.  "  0-0-Oh  !  you  villain  !"  she 
shrieked,  with  energy ;  and,  with  that,  ran  back, — ^her 
"  noble  form  "  being  lost  in  the  "  dim  profound  "  of 
the  room.  There  was  no  time  lost,  however ;  for  I 
had  not  yet  begun  to  wonder  "  what  next?"  when — 
"  Take  that !"  issued  from  the  distance — also  one  of 
my  friend's  "hot  shot," — which,  to  his  great  joy, 
missed  him  and  passed  out  at  the  window.  The  next 
moment  an  accident  occurred.     The  "falling  body" 


48  Astronomy. 

struck  the  object-glass  of  my  instrument  exactly  iu 
the  centre,  and  penetrated  even  unto  its  heart  and 
veins — performing  the  office  of  a  purge.  My  eyes 
were  injured  somewhat  by  the  explosion,  and  became 
greatly  inflamed. 

"When  I  had  returned  to  my  friends,  they  took  the 
liberty  to  disbelieve  my  account  of  the  accident ;  and 
invented  a  theory  which,  singularly  enough,  when 
taken  with  the  other,  precludes  the  idea  of  an  experi- 
menium  crucis^ — the  lunar  phenomena,  the  damage  to 
the  instrument,  and  the  redness  of  my  eyes,  being 
explained  on  either  hypothesis. 

COMETS. 
These  heavenly  bodies  resemble  snakes  in  being  all 
head  and  tail.  They  are  unlike  snakes  in  having  a 
very  fiery  appearance :  red  snakes,  much  to  the  regret 
of  naturalists,  being  astonishingly  rare.  Comets  lead 
a  very  irregular  life,  and  are  a  scandal  and  disgrace 
to  all  their  connexions.  "We  have  seen  the  eagle 
descend  from  a  great  height  and  take  the  newly- 
acquired  means  of  subsistence  from  the  industrious 
hawk, — flying  away  from  the  astonished  bird  as 
quickly  as  he  came.     Before  the  hawk  recovers  the 


Astronomy.  49 

ordinary  use  of  his  senses,  tlie  eagle  is  lost  to  sight, 
and  not  particularly  dear  to  memory.  The  efforts 
of  the  comet  are  attended  with  the  same  disgraceful 
success.  Watching  his  opportunity,  he  rushes  down 
when  the  sun  is  so  distracted  by  his  many  cares  as 
to  see  nothing  apart  from  them;  and  taking  from 
that  unsuspecting  luminary  as  much  fire-wood  as 
would  last  him,  if  frugally  used,  twice  the  length  of 
his  natural  life,  flies  away  to  his  own  country, — 
wasting  incredible  quantities  of  light  and  heat,  as  he 
goes,  in  vulgar  and  ridiculous  display.  He  has  the 
"unblushing  audacity  to  come  back  again,  after  a  few 
years,  sometimes  very  much  shorn  of  his  splendor, 
and  presenting  a  very  ordinary  appearance  indeed. 
When  sufficiently  near,  he  repeats  his  disgrace,  and 
provides  himself  with  a  new  tail.  Comets  frequently 
rise  to  that  pitch  of  variety  and  extravagance  that 
they  will  unfeelingly  sport  two,  three,  and  even  six 
tails,  at  one  and  the  same  time, — flaunting  them  in 
the  very  face  and  eyes  of  the  injured  sun.  But 
Justice  at  last  overtakes  the  offender:  six-tailed 
comets  are  never  seen  but  once. 

At  a  time  when  people  did  not  know  everything — 
which  we  may  suppose  to  have  been  before  the 


50  Astronomy. 

advent  of  the  present  generation — comets  were  looked 
on  with  a  jealous  eye.*  No  sooner  was  the  cry, — 
"  The  Comet  I"  raised,  than  one-half  thought  there 
would  be  war  directly,  and  the  remainder  that  he 
designed  staying  his  stomach  with  two  or  three  of 
the  planets.  While  these  induced  a  tremendous  and 
infernal  clamor  by  means  of  shoutings,  tin-pans,  and 
calabashes,  the  former  ordered  an  infinite  number  of 
Misereres  to  be  sung,  and  made  appropriations  for 
ammunition  and  the  public  defences.    When  we  con- 

*  Much  of  the  honor  of  having  removed  such  of  these  vulgar 
prejudices  as  passed  to  this  generation  may  be  claimed  by  Pro- 
fessor Horn : 

"  Comets  should  not  be  looked  at  with  alarm  and  terror  vsrhere 
they  appear  in  the  countries  of  our  solar  system.  They  can  only 
be  organized  bodies,  for  the  purpose  of  moving  out  of  the  great 
city  or  great  empire  of  solar  systems  into  infinite  space,  there  to 
collect  matter,  and  return  into  the  city,  distributing  their  matter 
through  the  solar  systems  to  nourish  and  compose  the  young 
planets.  The  long  tails  which  they  drag  after  them,  can  be 
nothing  more  than  matter  they  leave  behind  them;  the  sun 
shining  on  it  gives  it  the  color  of  the  rainbow." 

How  plausible  the  premises,  how  ingenious  the  argument, 
how  convincing  the  conclusion !  Mark  the  play  of  fancy  at  the 
close.    Verily,  this  "  Horn"  shall  be  exalted ! 


Astronomy.  _ji 

sider  that  wliile  on  tlie  one  hand  the  earth  remains  a 
tempting  but  nntasted  morsel,  on  the  other  wars  innu- 
merable have  taken  place,  and  that  these  theories 
were  equally  plausible, — we  cannot  avoid  the  conclu- 
sion that,  when  war  or  other  calamities  threaten  a  na- 
tion, it  is  better  to  bluster  and  make  a  great  noise  than 
to  waste  money  in  appropriations  or  piety  in  prayers. 

CONCLUSION. 

It  is  manifestly  impracticable  to  embrace,  within 
the  limits  of  a  single  lecture,  more  than  a  tithe  of  the 
details  of  that  science  to  which  it  may  be  devoted. 
Many  astronomers,  in  similar  cases,  have  tried  to  get 
in  two-tenths,  and  have  ignominiously  failed.  I  might 
perhaps  have  touched  off  the  "  Nebular  Theory  "  of 
Newton,  were  it  not  already  exploded ;  or  expanded 
on  the  "  Contraction  of  the  Earth ;"  or  stopped  to  in- 
quire if  the  "Motion  of  the  Sun  in  Space"  was 
seconded, — I  might  have  driven  the  car  of  Speculation 
along  the  Yia  Lactea,  only  that  my  way  was  clear : 
but,  nilly  willy ^"^  I  have  now  reached  the  end.  I  think 
I  hear  some  one  ask.  Who  held  the  stakes  when  Con- 
stellation trotted  against  Galaxy  ?     I  reply, — O'Eian ; 

*  Latin. 


52  Astronomy. 

the  studs  were  groomed  by  Boots  and  tlie  Little  Bare, 
and  ridden  by  those  stars  in  the  sporting  firmament, 
L.  D.  Baran  and  Ark  Toorus.  Again  I  am  ques- 
tioned :  one  of  my  hearers  inquires  if  I  am  a  lineal  de- 
scendant of  the  great  "  Ass  Tronomi "  ?  I  hanswer, — 
' Ardly.     His  mine  the  Hitalian  haccent  ? 

ADVICE  TO  ASTRONOMERS. 

From  the  heedlessness  consequent  on  professional 
enthusiasm,  astronomers  are  liable  to  affections  of  the 
lungs  and  throat.  When  you  have  had  tightness  at 
the  chest  for  a  week,  accompanied  by  difficulty  of 
breathing, — ^lungs  inflamed, — expectoration  difficult, 
— much  fever, — flesh  disappearing ; — then  know  you 
have  a  cold :  I  may  say — a  severe  cold.  Don't  neglect 
it.  I  repeat,  with  affectionate  earnestness,  donH  ne- 
glect it.  Consumption,  that  hollow-eyed  monster 
with  such  an  extraordinary  appetite,  begins  to  lick 
his  gory  chaps  when  he  hears  an  astronomer  say  "  As- 
trodoby  "  for  Astronomy.  My  Sidereal  Pills  are 
now  afforded  at  one  dollar  a  box.  I^^TAKE 
THEM.,^,^^1  They  are  not  for  a  day,  but  for  all 
time.  They  absolutely  pounce  with  delight  on  Dis- 
ease,  and  tear   him  with  hideous    yells    from  the 


Astronomy. 


53 


body.     Their  cry  is, — "Buy  us,  and  we'll  do  you 
good." 

Astronomers ! — ^AVOID  the  night  air  ;  and  when 
you  feel  particularly  well,  and  know  you  ought  to 
feel  ill,  do  not  lull  yourselves  into  fatal  security ;  but 
commence  at  once  taking  these  pills  (one  at  a  dose), 
morning,  noon,  and  night.  Cultivate  both  your 
equanimity  of  mind  and  your  taste,  by  the  daily 
perusal  of  my  Circular.  l^^PEKSEYEBE,.^^! 
and  you  will  be  happy. 


Mr.  PEPPER'S  SECOND   FEAT. 


HAYING-  learned,  soon  after  the  appearance  of  his 
first  poem,  that  many  papers  had  copied  the 
effusion,  with  laudatory  comments,  the  excitable  poet 
could  contain  himself  no  longer ;  yielding  to  the  im- 
pulses of  his  higher  nature,  he  immediately  conceived 
and  gave  birth  to  a  sentimental  "  Solileqy,"  which, 
with  daring  license,  he  addressed  to  a  "  Berd  on  the 
fens."  Fearing  the  consequence  of  his  indulging 
much  in  hasty  composition  (so  ruinous  to  young 
authors),  I  affected  to  disparage  his  first  poem,  declar- 
ing he  was  fortunate  in  getting  it  published  at  all, 
shorn  as  it  was  of  its  moral,  and  that  nothing  but  care 
and  faithfulness  could  keep  him  in  the  place  he  occu- 
pied. His  reply  satisfied  me  that  I  had  been  officious, 
and  did  not  well  understand  him.     There  is  a  fine 


Mr.  Pepper's  Second  Poem.  55' 

contrast  between  the  fire  and  energy  of  the  "  Colu- 
sion,"  and  the  tender  melancholy  and  melting  pathos 
in  which  the  "Solileqy  "  abounds. 

SOLILEQY, 

ADREST   TO   A  BERD   ONTO   THE   FENS.      COMPOASED   BY  MR.   K.   N. 
PEPPER,  ESQ.,  WHILST  RECLININ  ONTO  A  SHED  CLOAST  BI. 

Mi  pirty  litle  Animel,  a-settin  onto  the  pickits  I — 

How  fur  hev  you  floo  to-day — say,  pirty  Berd  ? 

(doant  ster — i  aint  lookin ;  so  be  not  in  hury.) 

How  ide  like  fur  to  set  thayr,  onto  the  next  pickit, 

ef  it  woodent  hirt,  &  mi  heft  woodent  braik  down  the  fens, 

&  you  wood  stay  &  let  me  smooth  of  the  fethers. 

(its  moast  butiful  Ploomig,  i  swow  I — ^but  to  resoom : ) 

How  i  long  fur  your  wings,  pirty  Bird,  so  i  cood  fli 

of  ide  leve  this  werld,  i  wood,  &  go  sumers  els. 

Your  vols  is  so  swete,  too, — ^i  wunder  if  thay  put  shuger  in 

Wen  it  wos  maid  !     How  i  wood  like  to  be  a- 

singin  al  day,  &  at  nite  go  to  roost  onto  a  lim, 

Cairles ! — in  slepe  ide  dreme  ov  mi  mait,  &  say : 

"  Hope  your  a-dremin  ov  me  likewais,  mi  mait." 

Ken  you  fli  to  the  clowds  &  bac  in  a  minit  ? 
So  cood  i,  mi  pirty,  ef  i  oanly  hed  your  wings. 
But  you  woodent  kech  me  a-comin  back  tho, 
after  ide  got  sech  a  start :  o  no,  pirty  Animel  I 
ide  fly  to  the  Hevins,  &  git  prict  onto  the  pints  ov  the  stars — 


56  Mr.  Pepper's  Second  Poem. 

ide  pic  at  the  man  in  the  Moon,  &  maik  him  wine  his  left  i — 

ide — ^wots  the  use  a-tockin,  wen  you  doant  no  nothin  ? 

You  aint  me.     Your  oanly  a  swete  pirty  Berd, 

always  a  chirupin,  &  you  aint  MeUencoUic  &  sad. 

But  i  am :  ime  full  ov  potry  &  felin,  & 

author  ov  varis  pomes :  but  0  ide  say  go 

to  al,  ef  i  cood  oanly  fii  with  wings. 

How  ide  looc  doun  &  se  rivers  a-runnin, 

with  men  onto  the  bangs  a-kechin  ov  fish, 

&  Bufalows  a-roamin  the  prayris,  with  hair 

al  stremin,  &  injans  a  shootin  at  ramden  with  bos  &  ars. 

ide  fii  to  south  ameriky  &  se  the  Snaiks 

in  the  gingles  a-crawhn  &  a-swallerin  ov  Httle  Bois. 

&  then  ide  fly  to  afriky  &  se  the  Elefans, 

1  a-fitin  with  the  Rinoserus,  &  a-givin  ov  him  fits 

with  his  trunc,  wile  he  wos  a-gittin  ov  his  bowls 

chaingd  bi  the  ivery  Tusc  ov  his  Ennemy. 

afoar  ide  got  much  tand  bi  the  rather  worm 

Son  belongin  to  afriky,  ide  fii  to  aishy, 

inhaihn  the  C  air  on  mi  way  to  the  Kedentry, 

&  a-tryin  to  Banish  the  smel  ov  the  afriken  nativs. 

in  gloris  aishy  ide  se  menny  a  Tiger 

a-chaisin  the  chines  &  a-bitin  a  pese  frum  the  leg, 

Wich  wood  maik  me  so  sad  ide  pressently  cum  over  to  rooshy, 

a-wunderin  wot  maiks  Mr.  Cezar  so  prowd  ov  his  Cussax — 

1st  taikin  a  lingerin  looc  at  the  tal  fouls  in  chiny. 

next  from  rooshy  ide  cum  into  tirky,  bein  so  ni, 


Mr.  Pepper's  Second  Eoem.  57 

not  expectin  fur  to  se  much  on  acount  ov  the  smoak, 
But  not  riskin  a  sques  onto  the  nee  with  a  bo-string 
Bi  a-refusin  to  taik  a  Htle  Sublim  Poart  with  the  sultin. 

But,  dere  htle  Berdy,  aint  you  tired  a-folowin 

mi  fortius,  &  not  hevin  no  help  from  your  wings  ? 

onhapy  Animel  I  how  sory  i  am  ime  so  crule  I 

Ef  i  hedent  a-sudenly  thougt  ov  your  fehns 

i  mite  hev  onfortinetly  carrid  you  all  over  urup. 

But  cumin  hoam  ore  the  oshun  wil  sune  restoar  helth. 

now  youre  hoam ! — want  that  did  quia,  pirty  Berdy  ? 

But  the  cus  hes  floo  &  desertid  the  pickit, 
&  nothin  is  left  but  i  &  the  shed  &  the  fens — 
nun  ov  wich  cant  fli.     ongraitful  litle  rip : 
after  al  my  delliket  atenshuns,  hese  throo  bac 
Sech  welth  ov  afeckshun  into  mi  pend  up  boosumi 
So  it  alers  hes  been,    o  i  shel  di  i  thine, 
Bi  sooiside,  after  ive  roat  2  or  3  moar  pomes, 
in  1  i  shel  bid  fairwel  to  a  Werld  onfehn, 
&  maik  it  so  harrowin  &  afecktin 
that  every  boddy  cant  help  sheddin  torrens  ov  teres, 
&  bein  bhndid-hke,  fur  severil  days,  bi  Wo. 
&  al  the  laydis  wil  were  "  K.  N.  Pepper,  Esq.,"  onto  pincushins, 
&  wish  he  hedent  cum  to  sech  a  woilent  End : 
He  so  young  and  hansum  too. — ^but  i  cant  go  on. 
i  fele  bad :  ile  desend  frum  mi  eminens  &  taik  suthin  worm. 
Fairwel  wicked  Werld ;  &  you,  onfehn  Berd,  adoo ! 

8^ 


THE    ANGUISHED    BRIDE; 

OR, 

THE  ECHOING   PISTOL. 
A     TALE. 


BY  WILLIK  WILTON  WILLOUGHBY. 

**  Such  is  life." 
CHAPTER    I. 

EDOUARD. 

A  spirit  yet  unquelled  and  high. 
That  claims  and  seeks  ascendency. — Byron. 
His  was  the  gifted  eye,  which  grace  still  touched 
As  if  with  second  nature;  and  his  dreams. 
His  childish  dreams,  were  lit  by  hues  of  heaven — 

Those  which  make  Genius. — L.  E.  L . 

Ham. — He  was  a  man,  take  him  for  all  in  all, 

I  shall  not  look  upon  his  like  again. — David  Copperfield. 

EDOUARD  BL AlSrCHFORD,  in  Body  and  Fortune 
— in  everything  but  Mind — ^had  been  Frowned  on 
by  a  cruel  Fate !     He  was  born  of  poor  but  honest 


The  Anguished  Bride.  59 

parents,  and  marked  slightly  by  the  small-pox.  In  spite 
of  these  great  Obstacles  to  Success — to  which  may  be 
added  an  unfortunate  reddish  tinge  to  his  hair — ^he 
had  a  noble  Mind ;  indeed,  he  was  possessed  of,  and 
as  usual  made  miserable  by,  the  most  exalted  Genius  I 
At  the  early  age  of  ten,  he  had  constructed,  entirely 
alone,  a  perfect  Wheelbarrow,  with  side-boards  and 
all!  It  is  related,  that  immediately  on  completing 
this  miracle  of  Mechanical  Genius,  and  without  wait- 
ing for  the  plaudits  of  the  World,  he  put  on  the  side- 
boards, and  filling  it  with  the  largest  stones  he  could 
find,  magnanimously  wheeled  it  off  a  Precipice — ^in 
his  enthusiasm  very  nearly  going  with  it.  There  was 
true  Greatness  of  Mind  I  He  had  already  risen  above 
the  Smiles  and  Nods  of  a  Hollow  World,  and  was 
calmly  happy  in  the  contemplation  of  his  Genius,  and 
in  planning  similar  great  and  noble  Deeds  for  the 
Future ! 

"  What  if  I  am  poor,  and  slightly  marked  with  the 
small-pox ! "  he  would  ejaculate,  in  a  burst  of  proud, 
disdainful  Rapture, — "what  if  my  hair  is  a  little  reddish 
— or  entirely  brick,  for  that  matter ; — my  Genius^  I  am 
happy  to  say,  is  not  marked  by  that  fell  disease, — it 
has  never  had  a  complaint  of  any  kind.     I  hnow  I'm 


6o  The  Anguished  Bride. 

smart  I  Something  whispers  it  in  the  sweet  balmy 
gales  of  Heaven,  and  thunders  it  quite  distinctly  in 
the  Cataract !  I  am  determined  to  impress  the  con- 
viction on  the  World.  Oh  I  I  am  as  certain,  as  I  am 
of  the  unfortunate  color  of  my  hair,  that  I  shall  Do 
Something  in  Time !  and  mayhap  (for  who  knows 
what  Heaven  has  in  store  for  him  ?)  the  Whole  World 
may  yet  be  at  my  feet  I " 


Edouard  did  not  always  talk  in  this  way.  No ;  far 
from  it !  At  times  he  was  frigid  with  sad  Melan- 
choly I  In  fact,  this  was  his  unfortunate  condition 
most  of  the  time.  His  worldly-minded  parent  would 
often  address  him,  at  these  moments,  in  the  most  un- 
feeling manner.  Thus,  on  one  occasion,  observing 
his  unhappy  son  plunged  in  deeper  melancholy,  by 
half,  than  he  had  ever  seen  him  in  before,  he  insulted 
him  by  this  remark : 

"  Cheer  up,  Ned  1  [by  such  short  diminutives  would 
he  presume  to  approach  his  talented  son  I]  cheer  up, 
my  boy,  and  take  a  little  so' thin'." 

The  reader  will  at  once  infer,  from  this  remark, 
that  the  elder  Mr.  Blanchford  was  not  a  stranger  to 
the  Fatal  Bowl.     Did  his  noble-minded  son  accept 


The  Anguished  Bride.  61 

the  parental  advice  ?  Quite  the  contrary.  He  repHed 
as  follows : 

"  Sire !  tempt  me  not !  You  can't  comprehend  my 
nature.  ******** 
Oh!  Father"      ******* 

What  he  would  have  said,  is  lost  to  his  besotted 
Parent  and  the  World,  and  can  only  be  conjectured ; 
some  Noble  Sentiment  would  undoubtedly  have 
escaped  his  lips.  As  it  was,  overcome  by  his 
wounded  Feelings,  and  a  certain  shock  his  spirit 
always  received  at  the  very  thought  of  the  Intoxi- 
cating Draught — intensified  by  the  fumes  of  his 
Parent's  breath — he  fainted  in  that  Parent's  arms. 


CHAPTEK    II. 

HORTENSIA. 

A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  for  ever. — Keats. 

Of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. — Walter  Scott. 

HoRTENSiA  Amelia  Plantagenet  lived  on  an 
eminence  in  the  outskirts  of  the  village,  in  an  elegant 
and  expensive  mansion  of  White  Marble.  Her  father 
was  worth  Millions  of  Sordid  Dollars,  and  of  course 
he  was  a  proud,  cold,  unfeehng  Wretch.     There  wag 


62  The  Anguished  Bride. 

a  hard  look  about  his  eyes,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
always  thinking  of  some  new  scheme  to  increase  his 
wealth,  or  oppress  his  Poor  but  Honest  neighbors. 
Hortensia  Amelia — although  no  reader  would  perhaps 
expect  it — was  a  Noble  Girl,  and  despised  all  the  lovers 
her  sordid  father  and  proud  mother  had  provided  for 
her.  These  lovers  were  all  members  of  the  Wealthy 
Classes,  and  were  very  ignorant  and  conceited.  Cain 
Sharkey,  one  of  them — ^being  possessed  of  nearly  five 
hundred  thousand  dollars,  and  belonging  to  a  high 
Family — was  looked  on  with  great  favor  by  both  of 
Hortensia  Amelia's  Parents.  She,  on  the  contrary, 
in  her  artless  way,  would  frequently  remark  that  she 
"  couldn't  bear  him ! "    ^ 


When  her  Parents  began  one  day  to  remonstrate 
with  her  on  this  apparently  reasonless  prejudice,  she 
burst  into  a  passionate  flood  of  silent  tears,  and  then, 
for  the  space  of  half  an  hour,  gave  herself  up  to  un- 
conscious musing.  When  she  had  recovered  from 
her  emotion — which  her  Parents  had  observed  with 
astonishment — she  frankly  confided  to  them  her  views 
of  Destiny,  the  World,  Happiness,  the  Unattainable, 
and  Communion  of  Mind. 


The  Anguished  Bride.  63 

"  Parents ! — ^progenitors  I "  she  at  length  concluded, 
"  urge  me  not !  I  can  never  be  Cain  Sharkey's  wife ! 
■I  loathe  him ! — I  detest  him  I " 

Whom  did  she  love  ?  Alas  1 — ^poor  Stricken  Deer 
— as  yet,  no  one  possessed  the  priceless  treasure  of 
that  ISToble  Heart !  


One  night — a  terrible  night — I  may  say,  a  Tempes- 
tuous night ! — a  solitary  rush-light  gleamed  from  that 
proud  Mansion,  quite  late  in  the  evening.  Let  us  not 
be  mistaken.  "We  will  now  state  distinctly  that  it  was 
past  one  o'clock.  The  Parents  were  talking  in  Low 
Tones,  cruelly  deciding  the  fate  of  their  daughter, 
without  making  her  a  party  to  the  scheme.  Soon 
finishing  their  consultation,  and  shaking  hand  sover 
the  agreement  to  this  Deed  of  Injustice — ^perhaps 
Blood! — the  Father  went  to  the  door  and  called 
sternly  to  Hortensia  Amelia. 

She  was  not  awake !  ***** 

********** 

She  had  gone  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock,  and  had 
consequently  been  four  hours  reveling  in  the  sweet 
dreams  of  Unconscious,  Unsuspecting  Innocence.  She 
was  a  sound  sleeper — ^innocence  is  ever  sound  asleep 


M:- 


64  The  Anguished  Bride. 

by  one  o'clock — ^and  she  was  not  easily  roused.  Alas ! 
better  that  she  had  never  been  awakened ! — ^in  which 
case  she  would  have  awoke  of  herself,  in  a  Better 
Place.  She  came  to  the  head  of  the  flight  of  magni- 
ficent marble  steps  that  led  to  her  bedroom — ^saw  her 
father's  stern  face  glowering  on  her  from  the  foot — 
and,  comprehending  at  once  the  extent  of  her  Misery, 
gave  an  unearthly  shriek,  and  sank  upon  the  floor  I 


CHAPTEK    III 

THE   RESCUE. 


Alas,  sir  !  are  you  here  ?  things  that  love  night. 
Love  not  such  nights  as  these. — King  Lear. 
The  night  was  dark  and  fearful. 

The  blast  went  wailing  by. — Milton. 

Edouard  was  abroad  that  night.  Yes !  his  fever- 
ed brain  was  on  the  rack !  His  thoughts  were  too 
mighty  for  rest  I  He  went  out  to  hold  communion 
with  the  elements.  They  soothed  his  soul,  even 
while  wetting  him  to  the  skin.  The  hoarse  voice  of 
the  astoupding  blast  shouted  "  Eeturn  I" — the  deafen- 


-M^ 


The  Anguished  Bride.  65 

ing  thunder  made  the  same  appeal !  Their  entreaties 
were  in  vain  !  He  kept  on.  Why  did  he  direct  his 
steps  toward  the  dwelhng  of  Hortensia  Ameha? 
Because  his  thoughts  were  there !  He  had  long 
dreamed  in  silence  of  that  Angelic  Face,  and  often, 
of  a  dark  night,  had  he  paced  before  her  window, 
braving  the  generally  savage  watch-dog,  and  hoping 
for  a  gleam  of  her  lamp  to  cheer  him.  All  that  pre- 
vented his  being  frequently  cheered  in  that  way,  was 
the  fact  of  her  always  retiring  so  early.  *  * 


What  means  that  solitary  rush-light — ^that  angry 
call — that  fearful  shriek  ?  Instinct  told  him  immedi- 
ately that  the  Being  he  had  so  long  in  secret  wor- 
shipped— devotedly  but  despairingly — was  in  dan- 
ger !  Further  directions,  from  Instinct  or  any  other 
person,  were  superfluous.  Knowing,  through  some 
superhuman  Agency,  that  the  window  just  over  him, 
in  the  second  story,  was  the  one  he  must  enter,  if 
any — and  having  a  secret  conviction  that  the  door 
was  both  double-bolted  and  strongly  barred — ^he 
stepped  back  a  few  paces,  and  for  part  of  an  instant 
communed  with  himself. 

*  *  « 


66  The  Anguished  Bride. 


What  did  he  do  next  ?  Any  common  man — con- 
sidering that  the  window  was  upward  of  twenty  feet 
from  the  ground — would  have  done  nothing.  Edou- 
ard  Blanchford  was  not  a  common  man.  His  ac- 
tions, his  habits — the  very  fact  of  his  being  in  such 
a  place  at  such  a  time,  prove  that  he  was  no  common 
man.  His  very  next  Action — so  Brave  and  Diffi- 
cult— has  a  tendency  to  make  the  fact  still  more 
apparent.  Collecting  all  his  energies  (of  which  he 
possessed  many),  and  receiving  just  then  some  Super- 
natural Aid,  he  ran  with  the  velocity  of  lightning, 
and  sprang  through  the  window — dashing  the  sash 
to  atoms !  and  lacerating  his  hand  to  such  a  frightful 
degree  that  several  drops  of  blood  seemed  on  the 
point  of  bursting  from  the  wound ! 


HoRTENSiA  Amelia  had  had  a  Presentiment  that 
Deliverance  was  to  come  through  the  third  window 
from  the  right,  looking  south  (the  very  window !) 
and  for  several  minutes  had  been  watching  it  with 
anxiety.  When  she  saw  that  Noble  Form  burst 
through  it,  and  with  the  acquired  momentum  run 


The  Anguished  Bride.  67 

forward  several  steps  to  save  himself  from  falling — 
she  uttered  a  Shriek  of  Pleasure,  and  with  the  most 
touching  tenderness  of  tone  inquired  anxiously  if  he 
were  hurt. 

"  Are  you  f '  he  asked,  with  frantic  eagerness. 

"  I  am  very  well,  now  /"  she  replied,  casting  down 
her  eyes ;  and  then,  in  some  confusion,  was  about  to 
say  nothing,  when,  catching  a  sudden  glimpse  of  the 
Bloody  Hand  of  Edouard,  she  shrieked  once  more, 
and  immediately  tore  a  strip  of  linen  from  one  of  her 
under-garments  to  bind  up  the  wound. 

Touched  and  melted  by  this  evidence  of  affection, 
and  partly  overcome  by  the  Superhuman  Effort  he 
had  made,  as  well  as  the  loss  of  blood,  Edouard 
asked  Hortensia  for  a  glass  of  water.  Casting  upon 
him  a  look  of  mingled  mild  reproach  and  Unfathom- 
able Love,  she  said : 

"  How  can  you  think  of  water,  love,  at  such  a 
moment  ?" 

"  Then  fly,  love — fly  with  me — at  once — at  once  /" 
he  cried,  seizing  her  unresisting  form,  and  leaping 
madly  from  the  window  I 


68  The  Anguished  Bride. 


CHAPTER     IV. 

THE   FATAL   FIREARM. 

Last  scene  of  all. 


That  ends  this  strange,  eventful  history. — As  You  Like  It. 
To  be,  or  not  to  be ;  that  is  the  question. — Anon. 
O  death  !  where  is  thy  sting  ? — Irving. 
This  is  the  last  of  earth. — Dr.  Johnson. 

How  Bdouard  found  himself  at  the  door  of  a  cler- 
gyman two  miles  distant,  with  the  insensible  form  of 
Hortensia  in  his  arms — is  every  whit  as  miraculous 
as  his  wonderful  leap.  Oh  !  ye  "Worldly  ones  of  this 
Earth  I  learn,  in  this  humble  Tale,  that  the  only  Ma- 
gician, the  only  real  Wonder- Worker,  is  LOYE  ! 

A  slight  application  of  hartshorn  to  the  nose  of 
Hortensia  Amelia  having  ''brought  her  to,"  they 
were  quickly  made  one ;  and  Hortensia  having  feed 
the  clergyman,  as  Edouard  had  forgotten  his  purse, 
they  at  once  repaired  to  the  Beautiful  Yalley  which 
he  had  selected  as  their  future  residence. 

Precisely  a  minute  after  their  departure  from  the 
clergyman's  house,  Mr.  Plantagenet  and  Cain  Shar- 
key arrived — their  six  horses,  as  well  as  themselves, 
all  breathless  and  foaming. 


The  Anguished  Bride.  69 

"  Here's  a  go  !"  cried  Cain  Sharkey,  in  the  elegant 
phraseology  for  which  he  was  distinguished.  "  Plan- 
tagenet !  my  intended  Father-in-law  !"  he  proceeded, 
"  mark  me  !  I  must  have  vengeance  !  damn  me !" 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  obsequious,  fawning  Plan- 
tagenet, — "  of  course."  With  that  they  leaped  furi- 
ously into  their  carriage,  and  drove  impetuously 
away. 


It  was  eve ;  or,  rather,  it  had  been  eve,  and  was 
now  night.  Edouard  and  Hortensia  had  passed  the 
evening  in  a  state  of  bliss  unspeakable — holding  each 
other  by  the  hand,  and  gazing  fondly  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

"  My  love !"  at  length  said  the  blushing  bride, 
"  my  eyes  grow  heavy,  and  I  am  weary ;  I  think  I 
will  retire."  Upon  which,  kissing  Edouard  affec- 
tionately, she  glided  from  his  presence  like  a  thing 
of  grace.  Edouard  then  rose;  and,  after  yawning 
wearily,  and  rubbing  his  heavy  eyes,  began  to  pace 
the  room  furiously,  and  weep  briny  tears,  at  the 
same  time  tearing  his  already  thin  hair,  and  rending 


yo  The  Anguished  Bride. 

his  apparel.  At  last  his  surcharged  heart  found  re- 
lief in  words : 

"  Alas  I  what  have  I  done  ?  Wretch  that  I  am  ! 
Villain  I  Monster  I  Cold-hearted  Abortion !  I  have 
doomed  Hortensia,  the  tenderly-reared,  to  a  life  of 
Misery  and  Want !  I  am  poor,  and  the  World  has 
not  yet  done  me  justice.  How  can  I  repair  the  Mis- 
chief I  have  done  ?  Alas  I  there  is  but  one  way ! 
Come,  sweet  Friend,"  he  continued,  drawing  a  richly- 
mounted  Pistol  from  his  bosom,  and  kissing  it — 
"  come  !  relieve  me !  Oh !  relieve  me — I  pray,  re- 
lieve me  from  this  Load  which  seems  large  enough  for 
six !  Hortensia  Amelia,  my  fond  Bride — a  last  adieu!" 

A  report  rang  through  the  little  cot,  and  reverbe- 
rated for  Miles  along  the  valley.  A  Shriek  soon  fol- 
lowed, ten  times  as  loud  and  Appalling.  Cain 
Sharkey  and  Mr.  Plantagenet  heard  both ! 

"  I  know  Hortensia's  voice  !"  said  the  elder  of  the 
two  Travellers,  in  a  confident  tone — ^leaping  from  the 
carriage  and  clearing  the  fence  at  a  single  bound.  He 
saw  an  object  clothed  in  white,  standing  at  the  corner 
of  the  house,  with  a  handkerchief  at  her  face. 

Eeader,  that  Object — ^that  Weeping  Object — clothed 
in  white — standing  at  the  comer  of  the  house — in 


The  Anguished  Bride.  71 

Agony — was — Hortensia  Amelia  Blanchford  ! 
Bride  and  Widow  in  one,  or  rather  five,  short  hours ! 
"Father!"  she  shrieked,  without  removing  the 
handkerchief  from  her  face — "  go  in  !  and  behold 
Your  "Work  !  Your  Son-in-law,  Sir,  is  dead !"  It  is, 
Sir,  a  Sad  Fact!      *        *        * 


Header!  she  lives— but  she  has  never  married.  A 
constant  melancholy  shades  her  fine  features  and  im- 
pairs her  appetite.  When  Edouard  Blanchford  is 
mentioned  in  her  presence  (which  has  never  but  once 
happened,  as  her  friends  avoid  the  painful  topic),  she 
weeps. 

I  saw  her  turning  the  crank  at  the  well  in  her 
father's  yard.  I  mentioned  Edouard  Blanchford.  She 
wept  and  turned  away.  Her  only  comfort  is  in 
Labor.  Consequently  she  weeds  the  garden,  in  her 
Widow's  weeds,  and  affects  the  passer-by  to  tears  by 
such  a  touching  sight. 

Cain  Sharkey,  after  a  life  of  dissipation,  fell  a  vic- 
tim to  his  passions,  and  died  very  Unhappy. 

Hortensia  Amelia's  father  has  Changed !     He  is 


72  The  Anguished  Bride. 

now  a  good  man.  His  wife  is  now  a  good  woman — 
old,  but  happy,  and  devoted  to  her  daughter. 

Edouard's  father  now  sleeps  by  the  side  of  his 
Noble  Son. 

Eeader,  farewell !   and,  in   your   intercourse  with 

your  brothers  and  sisters  of  the  great  Human  Family, 

ever 

"  Speak  gently  to  the  erring." 


MR.  PEPPER'S  THIRD  EFFORT. 


THE  forebodings  of  Genius  are  of  tlie  nature  of 
prophecies  in  embryo ;  but  wben  they  happen  to 
fail  of  their  realization,  as  did  the  forebodings  of  Pep- 
per, alluded  to*  in  the  following  paragraph,  which  the 
Knickerhocker  prefixed  to  the  poem — the  world  re- 
joices, and  looks  out  as  usual  for  new  poems : 

"  Again  are  we  favored  with  a  spirited  '  Pome'  by 
Mr.  K.  N.  Pepper,  who  touches  nothing  that  he 
doesn't  ornament.  In  a  private  note  to  the  Editor,  he 
intimates  that  his  poetical  power  may  be  failing  him. 
Not  so :  there  are  parts  of  '  The  Suferings  ov  a  Man'' 
which  are  fully  equal  to  portions  of  the  '  Lines  to  a 
Berd  onto  the  Fens.'  Oh,  no ;  Mr.  Pepper  must  not 
lose  confidence  in  himself  He  has  only  just  com- 
menced his  career ;  he  has  been  writing,  as  it  were, 

4 


74  Mr.  Pepper's  Third  Effort. 

*  with  one  arm  tied  behind  him.'     Made  virtute^  Mr. 
Pepper:" 


THE   SUFERINGS   OV  A   MAN. 

COMPOASD   INTO   RIME   BI   MR.    K.    N.    PEPPER,    ESQ. 

As  he  traveld  bi  the  way, 

this  Man  wos  herd  fur  to  say 

(al  aloan  he  wos,  you  se,) 

i  wish  i  hed  sum  1  fur  cumpany. 

But  thair  he  wos,  al  aloan, 

&  that  is  Suferink,  we  oan. 

But  as  he  wos  a-goin  frum  hoam, 

gitin  kind  ov  loan-sum. 

He  side  severil  times  cuite  hard, 

mournfuly  a-stroaking  ov  his  baird, 

until  his  Suferings  wos  so  intens 

He  bload  his  noas  bi  the  fens, 

Becos  ov  his  absens  ov  mind — 

He  not  bein  eny  ways  so  inclind : 

Sech  Wo  ! — ^but  cumpany  wos  ni 

to  him  moast  sertinly : 

He  heerd  a  yel,  sum  distens  of, 

&,  as  he  afterwerds  sed, 

it  wos  a  Dog,  &  that  Dog  wos  hisn — 

the  saim  as  he  hed  left  a  prisen- 


Mr.  Pepper's  Third  EfFort.  75 


er  to  hoam  at  11  in  the  4  noon, 
this  maid  him  kind  ov  mad  soon ; 
&  as  the  Animal  cumd  hckin  around 
He  swoar  Venjens  onto  him  imejitlj. 

o  sed  he,  as  he  stompt  onto  the  ground, 

ime  mad  enuf,  i  am,  to  fli : 

So  it  bein  a  Htle  cus  ov  a  Dog, 

He  jest  tooG  him  by  the  nap  ov  the  nee 

&  felt  amungst  his  tog- 

ery ;  tooc  out  a  fresh  cud  into  his  chec 

(ov  tobacker)  &  scuirted  the  guse 

into  his  fais  &  i's  moast  perfuse, 

&  maid  him  yel  sum,  i  shood  thine : 

Pereodikelly  a-wantin  ov  drinc 

fur  to  whet  up  his  parchment  tung. 

&  now  mi  song  is  moast  sung : 
the  Dog  becaim  (spekin  perhte) 
much  regused ;  in  fact,  he  dide : — 
&  so  did  the  Man,  sum  time  after, 
ov  the  scarht  Feiver 


THE    ERIE    CANAL 

A  MILD  RHAPSODY. 


I  QUESTION  if  there  is  a  single  "packet"  now 
"running"  on  tHs  canal.  Ten  years  ago,  there 
were  fleets  of  them.  Alas,  that  Time  should  work 
so  grievous  changes ! 

Unblest  as  I  am  by  reminiscences  of  experience  in 
the  elegant  recreation  of  guiding  a  "  leader," — or  the 
more  absorbing  and  scientific  pastime  of  "  steering ;" 
accomplished  in  naught  that  pertains  to  the  respon- 
sible post  of  "bowsman;"  and  never — to  forget  an 
occasional  timid  Jew,  in  Chatham  street — ^having 
been  hailed  as  "  Captain,"  afloat  or  ashore :  still, 
gentle  reader,  I  know  the  Erie  Canal,  well.  I  know, 
too,  that  the  not-infrequent  and  familiar  tales   of 


The  Erie  Canal.  77 

"tempestuous  passages"  through  endless  surges,  the 
"  mountain- waves,"  the  trepidations  of  the  "  cook," 
and  the  imperatively -necessary  "  reefs  in  the  stove- 
pipe," are  baseless  and  shameless  inventions  of  the 
projectors  of  "  rail,  and  other  roads," — or  the  slander- 
ous attacks  of  would-be  "  dead-heads,"  who  were 
obliged  to  pay  for  dinners  the  same  as  when  on  land. 
For,  look  you,  it  never  in  such- wise  befell  the  writer 
hereof;  who,  favored  by  gentle  gales,  clear  skies, 
and  glassy  waves,  had  ever  reached  the  "haven 
where  he  would  be,"  un vexed  by  the  strife  of  ele- 
ments, or  lashings  of  rebellious  surges. 

O  that  those  halcyon  days  would  come,  once  more ! 
Holland!  be  ever  blessed  in  thine  honest  fondness 
for  slow  motion !  America !  let  rail-roads  curse  thee 
— ^kill  thy  children — warn  thee  of  that  fell  destroyer 
— Haste ! 

What  whilome  traveller  on  this  canal  can  be  pre- 
sumed to  have  forgotten  the  soothing  strains  that 
were  wont  to  steal  from  the  horn  of  the  steersman,  as 
with  his  brown  right  hand  he  placed  it  against  the 
side  of  his  mouth  and  breathed  his  soul  through  a 
very  small  aperture  ?  the  left  meanwhile  guiding  the 
swan-like  motions  of  the  boat !     And  the  noble  craft, 


78  The  Erie  Canal. 

"  tiling  of  life"  as  it  was,  How  the  gates  of  the  lock 
would  joyfully  open  to  receive  it :  like  the  arms  of  a 
paternal  one,  who  was  about  to  fold  in  his  embrace 
the  prodigal,  at  last  returned,  from  husks,  to  veal 
and  his  father  I  Ah !  then  we  could  feel  that  Music 
is  a  spirit,  not  partial  in  respect  of  tenements,  but, 
with  a  sweet  forgetfulness  of  self,  tobacco,  and  horns, 
(whether  of  tin,  or  fluid  mixtures,)  ready  to  further 
the  ends  of  her  benevolent  mission  by  dwelHng  in  the 
humble  breast  of  a  steerer  of  boats.  For  a  time  we 
forgot  the  idle  distinction  of  "passengers"  and 
"crew,"  and  united  in  heart-felt  eulogiums  on  the 
wonderous  skill  of  the  enchanter. 

The  Erie  Canal  is  no  imaginary  affair — a  kind  of 
myth,  that  men  talk  about,  but  never  see:  it  does 
not  float  on  the  sea  of  idea.  Oh !  no ;  it  is  confined 
by  an  immense  number  of  locks;  and  statistical 
writers,  in  their  honest  moods,  call  it,  in  language 
singularly  appropriate,  a  "  fixed  fact." 

In  contemplating  this  wonderful  (I  had  nearly  said 
preposterous)  Ditch,  the  mind  is  missed  from  its 
accustomed  place :  it  is,  in  short,  lost.  A  feeling  of 
awe  comes  over  us;  and,  in  the  eloquent  language 
of  the  ancient  matron  who  feasted  her  eyes  and 


The  Erie  Canal. 


79 


curiosity  on  the  novel  sight  of  an  elephant,  we  are 
led  to  wonder  if  this  be  The  Canal  "  all  the  way 
along."  It  is  like  "linked  sweetness"  in  the  length 
of  its  drawing-out.  What  is  it  but  a  silver  String  to 
the  great  Violin,  the  Empire  State?  How  it  trem- 
bles, between  its  "bridges,"  when  crossed  by  the  rays 
of  a  summer  sun  I  The  music  is  translated  into  audi- 
ble sounds  by  ten  hundred  steersmen — 

Who  play  to  the  rocks, 

As  they  come  near  the  locks, 
The  music  of  heavenly  spheres : 

How  the  echoes  awaken 

When  the  tin  horn  is  taken 
By  the  "  stern"  man  who  blows  it,  and  steers ! — 

which  little  burst  of  poetic,  enthusiasm  may  serve  to 
assure  many  who  long  suspected  that  the  Divine 
Afflatus  may  be  evolved  by  the  contemplation  of 
canals. 

To  illustrate  the  possibilities  of  the  imagination,  let 
let  us  conceive  the  Erie  Canal  to  be  eliminated :  wiped 
out  with  an  adequate  sponge,  or  ejected  from  its  place 
by  one  of  the  "roads"  afore-mentioned.     Better  still, 


8o  The  Erie  Canal. 

believe  it  never  to  liave  been:  a  faith  which  will 
resemble,  in  magic  power,  that  of  those  who  count 
Shakspere  to  have  been  a  myth.  To  have  a  favor  of 
such  magnitude  granted  so  readily,  at  the  risk  of  ema- 
ciating the  conscience  through  starvation,  exposure, 
and  neglect,  emboldens  me  to  follow  this  career  of 
infamy  awhile  longer.  We  will  now  suppose  the 
New  York  Historical  Society  to  have  discovered, 
near  Buffalo,  an  Obelisk — an  undoubted  Pompey's 
Pillar,  which  never  supported  anything  and  has  long 
ceased  to  su  pport  itself ;  or  a  Cleopatra's  Needle,  with 
no  "  eye"  to  be  "  drilled,  counter-sunk,  and  warranted 
not  to  cut,"  but  beyond  a  perad venture  a  genuine 
article,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  few  feet  of  it  still 
left  above  ground.  Inspired  by  a  sort  of  traditionary 
instinct,  the  Society  above  named  determines  to  trans- 
port the  Obelisk  to  their  own  city,  for  erection  in  the 
Park.  It  comes  within  the  limits  of  our  "supposi- 
tion" to  have  them  consult  with  engineers,  and  finally, 
with  any  but  humorous  intentions,  quote  the  language 
of  Confucius  and  confess  it  to  be  "  no  go."  Disdain- 
ing the  aid  of  the  hackneyed  yoke  of  oxen  which 
"  drew  the  inference,"  cuffing  the  ears  of  the  wag  who 
suggests  a  "poor-man's  plaster,"  and  hopeless  of  the 


The  Erie  Canal.  81 

efficacy  of  "  moral  suasion,"  even  wlien  couched  in 
the  most  "  moving  accents,"  they  yield  themselves  to 
as  deep  despair  as  philosophers  can  feel,  and  never 
cease  to  regret  that  Obelisks,  like  facts,  are  such 
"  stubborn  things." 

But  aid  is  vouchsafed.  Omnipotent  Fancy  will 
have  a  "streak  of  lightning,"  the  plough  of  Time,  or 
five  thousand  Irishmen,  excavate  a  Furrow  through 
the  centre  of  the  State;  she  fills  it  with  water,  on 
whose  bosom  she  launches  "  scows,"  ornamented  with 
captains,  bowsmen,  and  steersmen;  she  kindly 
whispers  a  preliminary  warning, — and  then,  in  a  com- 
manding, rough,  military  voice,  shouts  to  the  column, 
"Advance!"  Every  hieroglyphic  on  its  time-worn 
surface  squirms  with  reluctance,  and  all  its  figures 
"grin  horribly  a  ghastly  smile;"  yet  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  energy  of  the  gallant  boatmen  makes  light  of 
the  pillar,  and  it  becomes  a  Pillar  of  Light :  illumi- 
nating its  own  darkness  by  the  diabolical  glare  of 
interior,  stony  curses.  To  the  music  of  horns  and 
waving  of  glazed  hats,  this  venerable  Eelic  of  a 
former  age  bids  farewell  to  the  hole  whence  it  was 
exhumed,  and  is  soon  lowered  into,  and  resting  in,  its 
"  long  home,"  the  scow.     In  an  insignificantly  brief 

4*  # 


82  The  Erie  Canal. 

space  of  time,  if  we  compare  it  with  eternity  or  a 
year  of  the  new  planet,  the  Needle  reaches  Kew 
York,  and  threads  the  streets,  at  the  head  of  a  pro- 
cession,— ^inspecting  everything  with  its  eye,  as  it  goes 
along,  and  discovering  a  good  many  fine  points ;  but, 
not  yet  recovered  from  its  astonishment  at  the 
changes  that  have  been  going  on  since  its  day, 
making  but  few  remarks.  The  Park  at  last  receives 
it,  standing;  the  Fountain  has  a  holiday,  and  is 
allowed  to  play;  and  on  the  current  "list  of  new 
arrivals"  one  may  read:  "0.  B.  LiSK,  from  Buffalo." 

In  these  latter  days  of  economy  and  moral 
restraint,  they  who  "  go  down  to  the  deep  "  of  locks, 
and  are  vexed  with  the  toils  of  inland  navigation, 
do  not  indulge,  to  the  same  extent  as  formerly,  in 
the  luxury  of  the  Sulphureous  Oath.  Truly,  the 
"canaler"  of  early  times  may  be  said  to  have  been 
"  clothed  with  curses  as  with  a  garment."  But  the 
world,  including  the  world  of  fresh- water  "salts,"  is 
growiiig  better;  on  the  canal  may  now  be  found 
many  "moral"  men— -yea,  many  "praying"  men. 
Yet  is  the  canal  not  a  fine-spun  paradise ;  the  towns 
through  which  it  threads  its  shining  course  have  not 


The  Erie  Canal.  83 

come  as  yet  to  cry  to  tlie  distant  hamlets  and  villages, 
"We  are  holier  than  ye."  "Drivers"  may  still  be 
heard  communicating  unpleasant  sentimeiits  to  stupid 
"  leaders,"  and  invoking  celestial  aid  to  the  consign- 
ing the  lights,  hides,  souls,  and  other  component 
parts  of  those  offending  beasts,  to  regions  infernal,  or 
spirits  diabolical.  But  the  millennium  is  coming. 
Already  a  goodly  number  of  the  "  vips  "  can  read, 
and  many  consent  to  peruse  the  tracts  and  volumes 
left  with  them  by  the  plain,  simple-hearted,  but 
earnest  men  who  have  taken  our  inland  waters  as  the 
"  field  "  of  their  labors. 

Yerily,  a  great  and  happy  change  shall  have  taken 
place,  when  the  captain,  though  it  be  only  of  a  scow 
or  log-raft,  shall  be  a  gentleman ;  when  every  bows- 
man  and  steersman  shall  take  "Watts's"  to  his 
bosom,  shouting  spiritual  songs ;  when  the  cook  shall 
season  his  dishes  with  a  prayer ;  when  each  driver 
shall  eschew  profanity  and  tobacco,  and  take  the 
hand  of  every  other  driver,  calling  him  "  brother ;" 
when  the  lock  'tender  shall  joyfully  hasten  to  "hurra 
the  lock!"  summoned  thereto  by  a  warning  strain 
from  the  Old  Hundredth  Psalm — ^the  delight  of  the 
steersman;   when  the  collector  shall  lay  down  his 


84  The  Erie  Canal. 

Bible  with  a  placid  smile,  that  he  may  make  out 
a  "  clearance :"  when,  in  short,  the  Millennium  does 
come. 

[If  steam  is  really  to  come  into  general  use  on  the  Canal, 
where,  I  would  ask,  are  we  to  go  who  are  in  love  with  the 
romance  of  inland  navigation  ?  Away  with  this  base,  utilitarian 
project !  Who  wants  to  be  blown  up  on  a  Canal  ?  There  would 
be  no  attractive  notoriety  in  it — no  chance  for  damages  against 
the  Company.    Keep  off  this  steam,  or  I  pack  up  for  Holland.] 


MR.   PEPPER'S   FOURTH   ACHIEVE- 
MENT. 


THE  Great  Comet  of  1853  was  not  witliout  its 
"  mission" — whicli  evidently  was  to  inspire  our 
poet,  and  thus  proclaim  the  majesty  of  intellect.  His 
ode  is  in  blank- verse — "  a  deviation,"  said  a  critic, 
"from  the  shackles  of  poetical  rule,  which  marks  the 
man  of  '  genus.'  But  the  thought,  the  thought  is  the 
thing.  Observe  the  variety  and  '  reach '  of  the  poet's 
fancy :" 

A  NOAD  TO  THE  COMECK. 

ROTE  INTO  THE  SUMMER,  BY  MR.  K.  N.  PEPPER,  ESQ. 

All  hail,  gralt  Loominarry — twicet  al  hale  1 
Grand  fizzikel  Yisiter,  youm  welcum  1 
in  regions  ov  Spais,  wair  al  is  silens, 


86      Mr.  Pepper's  Fourth  Achievement. 

&  there4:  no  nois  is  herd,  its  dificult 

to  traivel  &  not  waik  up  sumthin : 

But  you  hev  dun  it  so  fur  moar  than  50  yeres, 

to  the  satisfacshun  ov  al  present. 

With  untirin  perseverens  se  him  sail 

onto  a  rowt  as  no  1  ever  thougt  ov  goin. 

Wen  hese  frose  the  har  al  of  ov  his  hed, 

&  lost  so  meny  milds  ov  tail  that  he 

cant  tel  wether  hese  a-goin  forids  or  bacards, — 

then  he  shutes  down  to  the  Son  fur  to  worm  up, 

&  put  on  a  litle  bam  of  Columby  or  warpean. 

Sech  hard  were  it  is  fur  him  to  stop, 

that  hese  lost  the  nac  throo  wont  ov  practis. 

o  Comeck ! — a-goin  round  &  round  the  son, — 
Wi  not  sum  time  or  uther  wind  him  up, 
&,  a-taikin  the  rains  ov  Guverment  into  your  teth, 
up  &  giv  the  soaler  Cistim  a  nairin  ? 
Cum, — ^blo  your  wissel ;  the  plannits  is  on  a  train : 
Emigrans  into  the  frunt ;  ov  colusion  no  dainger : 
Gupitter  '11  doo  fur  a  balens-wele — 
Satern  '11  ring  wen  thays  sumthin  ahed — 
Mars  fite  al  irishmen  as  wont  pay  the  fair — 
&  venous  so  swete  ile  ride  with  her  miself. 
(wot  a  nidee,  now,  fur  a  singul  man  I) 
Wele  notifi  the  smal  stars  onto  the  rowt 
to  looc  out  for  the  Comeck  wen  the  bel  rings  I 


Mr.  Pepper's  Fourth  Achievement.       87 

Wele  saw  up  the  milky  Way  fur  fire-wood, 

&  yous  the  orory  Boryals  fur  a  signel-hte : 

Wich  wood  caws  a  stonishment  to  spring  frum  the  i. 

But  act  your  Plesure — we  doant  wonto  dicktait — 

oanly  we  shood  be  hapy  to  cum  the  perpoasd  arraingmeant. 

Miss  Terious  Comeck ! — wens  doo  you  shoot  ? 
Ware  wos  you  wen  you  1st  thougt  ov  flyin  ? 
Wot  put  it  into  your  hed  to  cum  this  way, 
a-surprisin  ov  the  naty vs  ? — is  the  stait 
ov  your  financys  sech  you  cant  supoart  moar  tale  ? 

o  Comeck ! — ^peraps  its  loansum,  traivelin  so — 
But  you  doant  no  the  mizzery  ov  a  felin  hart : 
Youm  al  hed  &  tail ;  so  ov  coars  cant  fele. 
i  sumtimes  wish  i  hedent  no  boddy,  too, — 
fur  fhen  i  mite  be  hapy. — ^plese  ex-kews 
mi  present  emoshun — i  cant  always  Banish 
the  thougt  ov  Wo. 

0  mity  Loominarry  I 
immens  Miss  Terry ! — say  now,  wos  it  troo 
You  hed  sum  thougts  ov  a-soin  up  the  Erth  ? 
You  aint  noomeris  for  that  persedin ! 
o  no,  Mr.  Comeck, — ^youm  too  smal. 
You  mite  hac  of  a  mountin  or  2,  praps, 
Bi  a-snubbin  ov  your  tale  onto  a  pyrrymid ; 
But  the  Morril  part  ov  Comunity 
Woodent  se  no  libbertys  tooc  with  the  muther  Erth — 


88      Mr.  Pepper's  Fourth  Achievement. 

o  no,  Mr.  Comeck,  as  wos  sed  be4. 

1st  egsersise,  &  git  sum  mete  onto  your  ribs, 

&  like  samson  let  your  bar  gro  long. — 

we  no  your  tallent  into  the  sailin  line — 

we  acnollig  youm  sum  onto  fire-wercs : 

But  doant  be  foolish  becos  you  no  how. 

You  cant  sercumnavoygrait  Erth  like  you  doo  the  son, 

Without  a-gittin  ov  your  hed  noct  of. 

the  son  is  indulgent,  &  not  a  tal  snapish ; 

&  hes  so  much  biznes,  atendin  to  al  the  plannits, 

that  a-givin  ov  fits  to  Comecks  is  soopirfloous. 

But  its  a  Htle  diferent  here,     so  bewair, 

&  talk  the  folowin  advise  frum  a  fren: 

We  shel  alwais  be  very  glad  to  se  you, 

Wen  actin  ov  your  part  into  the  grait  Sercus, 

&  not  gittin  out  ov  the  ring  &  a-throwin  dert. 

But  the  idee  ov  fitin  onto  sech  a  scail, 

We  cawl  prepostrious  into  the  egstreme. 

After  al,  i  doant  thine  your  intenshuns  wos  cereus : 
the  grait  Comeck  is  too  magnannymus 
to  hev  sech  a  nidee.     i  hoap  your  felins 
Hessent  bein  hirt ;  if  so,  plese  talk  notis 
Your  admirer  is  rash  almoast  to  canker, 
&  lashed  hisself  cuickly  into  angry  waivs 
wen  he  wos  be4  cuite  cam  &  slepy-like  ; 
&  al  fur  nothin,  as  we  air  hapy  to  se. 
So  doant  be  rash  yourself,  Miss  Terious  Comeck, 


Mr.  Pepper's  Fourth  Achievement.      89 

But  folow  into  the  trac  ov  your  ilustris  predysessers. 
Your  frens  into  this  seckshun  air  noomeris, 
&  thay  expeck  the  illustris  Comeck  to  doo  his  dooty — 
Wich  is,  to  sail  around  &  say  nothin  to  noboddy : 
Not  hittin  the  plannits,  &  a-steerin  clere  ov  the  stars. 

(n.  b.)  plese  tri  &  let  out  a  litle  moar  tail. 


A  TEDIOUS  STORY. 


HoR.  O  day  and  night,  but  this  is  wondrous  strange  ! 
Ham.  And  therefore  as  a  stranger  give  it  welcome. 
There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy. — Hamlet. 


THE  other  evening  I  sat  at  my  table,  writing.  A 
little  chilly  rain  was  falling,  ^nd  the  wail  of  the 
September  wind,  in  the  trees,  sounded  strangely  like 
the  hum  of  a  vast  mosquito.  "  Thank  Heaven  !"  I 
murmured,  with  much  emotion,  "  the  rascally  pests 
will  trouble  us  no  more  this  season  1"  This  appeared 
so  just  a  reflection,  I  laid  down  my  pen,  and  leaned 
back  in  my  chair,  supporting  my  head  in  my  hands, 
spreading  my  well-turned  legs  with  some  compla- 
cency, and  idly  musing  on  a  young  female  friend 


"A  Tedious  Story.  91 

who  (by  reason,  doubtless,  of  tbe  rich,  youthfully- 
pure  nectar  in  her  veins),  is  every  season  two-thirds 
devoured  by  the  egregious  vampires.  At  length, 
rousing  from  this  somnolent  reverie,  and  bending 
toward  my  task,  I  was  surprised,  and  I  own  a  little 
startled,  at  seeing  an  immense,  venerable-looking 
mosquito,  resting  on  the  margin  at  the  head  of  my 
sheet.  I  knew  the  case  demanded  promptness. 
"  Thus  falls  the  Last  of  the  Mohicans !"  I  cried,  with 
less  wit  than  exultation,  aiming  a  stroke  with  my 
ruler, 

"  That  might  determine,  and  not  need  repeat." 

On  the  instant,  the  threatened  insignificant  raised  one 
of  its  fore-limbs  with  a  deprecatory  gesture,  and,  in 
the  tiniest  voice  imaginable,  cried,  "  Hold  !" 

"  Humbug !"  interposes  the  reader :  "  Away  with 
this  Munchausen — this  Gulliver ! — Eemember  we  are 
not  marines !     Try  again !     Get  a " 

Peace ! 

How  know  you  it  was  not  a  miracle,  like  that 
which  astonished  Balaam,  a  few  thousand  years  ago  ? 
To  tell  the  truth,  reader — to  confide  to  you  a  favor- 
ite but  oddish  fancy  of  mine — I  have  long  believed 


92  A  Tedious  Story. ' 

there  are  times  wlien  it  is  permitted  us,  if  we  then 
desire  it,  to  have  communion  with  the  usually  mute 
orders  of  inferior  creation.  That  such  intercourse 
has  been  rare,  in  these  latter  years,  is  no  proof  it  is 
not  possible ;  and  I  am  sure,  if  a  stupid  animal  has 
ever  "  conversed  like  a  native,"  a  sprightly,  intelli- 
gent, ingenious,  cunning  insect  might  be  thought  to 
have  that  power.  I  confess  I  have  upon  occasion 
addressed  cows  or  other  animals,  half  hoping,  half 
believing,  they  would  not  only  understand,  but  speak. 
I  do  not  doubt  I  was  always  apprehended,  and  feel  a 
little  disappointment  at  having  but  just  been  favored 
in  the  way  I  have  desired,  and  not,  after  all,  by  an 
animal  (which  was  my  dearest  wish),  but  by  an  insig- 
nificant insect,  for  whose  race  I  have  all  along  enter- 
tained not  only  disrespect  but  hate. 

You  shall  presently  see,  my  reader,  there  must  have 
been  a  purpose  in  the  sudden  gift  of  speech  to  the 
insect,  having  reference  to  the  very  feelings  I  have 
mentioned.  I  can  very  readily  imagine  your  further 
murmurings  of  incredulity,  and  querulous  general 
disapproval.  "  The  mosquito  had  no  organs  of 
speech,"  you  are  on  the  point  of  remarking.  Had 
the  venerable  donkey  of  Scripture  ?    How  know  you 


A  Tedious  Story.  93 

this,  about  the  organs?  "But  his  voice  would  be 
inaudible,"  you  protest.  I  think  I  have  observed  it 
was  very  faint;  and  one  may  readily  believe  my 
hearing  (which  is  generally  excellent),  was  on  that 
occasion  helped  by  some  peculiar  state  of  the  air,  or 
of  my  system. 

But  I  do  not  think  it  dignified  to  have  engaged  in 
this  effort  to  make  my  relation  appear  plausible  ;  per- 
haps I  should  have  made  no  digression  at  all,  and 
have  depended  for  defense  on  a  note  at  the  end.  I  am 
in  hopes  the  story  will  be  found  to  speak  for  itself,  as 
did  the  mosquito. 

Now  I  am  naturally  a  weak  and  tender-hearted 
man ;  I  do  never  needlessly  afflict  or  maim  a  living 
thing,  or  indeed  much  mar  inanimate  ones.  I  am 
even  particular  to  have  my  newspapers  preserved,  in 
neat  files ;  and  when  one  is  torn,  there  is  a  certain 
feeling  in  my  breast,  growing  out  of  a  sense  of  fitness, 
just  as  carelessly  torn  and  lacerated.  But  a  sort  of 
instinct  has  always  prompted  me  to  kill  mosquitoes. 
I  have  even  been  led,  through  a  prejudiced  estimate, 
to  ask.  What  were  they  made  for  ? 

I  own  I  was  a  little  surprised  with  the  conduct  of 
the  venerable  insect :  but  I  have  since  been  exercised 


94  A  Tedious  Story. 

witli  wondering  I  was  not  more  astonished.  Struck 
at  once  with,  a  sense  of  the  enormitj  of  the  act  I  con- 
templated, I  dropped  my  weapon,  and  said, 

"  I  beg  your  pardon — I  really  had  no  malice.  It 
was  but  the  mere  following  a  habit." 

"  I  have  no  hard  feelings,  sir,"  replied  the  mosquito. 
"I  almost  beg  your  pardon  for  stopping  you,  for  I 
could  easily  have  avoided  the  blow,  and  left  you  to 
your  reflections;  but  I  have  looked  forward  to  this 
moment  for  many  a  day.  Instinct  advises  me  the 
time  has  at  length  arrived  when  I  may  safely  and 
profitably  communicate  with  one  of  your  race.  You 
perceive,  sir,  my  size  is  somewhat  unusual ;  and  when 
I  assure  you  my  age  and  experience  are  equally 
uncommon,  you  will,  I  hope,  be  ready  to  treat  me 
with  more  consideration  than  you  have  lavished  on 
an  innumerable  martyred  throng  of  my  fellows." 

A  sigh,  of  considerable  profundity  for  such  a  little 
body  to  heave,  escaped  the  loquacious  insect,  which 
now  paused  an  instant  and  panted  vigorously  for 
breath, — its  former  stock  of  which,  considering  its 
volume  of  voice,  I  had  begun  to  wonder  was  not 
spent  before.     At  length  it  thus  resumed : 

"I  do  not  imagine  that  anything  I  could  say  would 


A  Tedious  Story.  95 

have  tlie  effect  to  cliange  the  opinion  your  race  has 
of  mine.  Indeed,  my  hopes  did  not  look  that  way. 
You  regard  us — reasonably  enough,  I  admit — as 
bloodthirsty  and  inhuman  creatures.  You  jest  des- 
perately about  our  'warlike  trump,'  and  illustrate 
your  hate,  in  the  absence  of  physical  proof,  by  the 
uncomplimentary  titles  you  heap  on  us,  and  the  gene- 
ral tone  of  the  language  you  employ  against  us. 
Thus,  you  would  not  credit  the  assertion  that  the 
droning  sound  you  dread  and  stigmatize  is  a  sigh  of 
regret  at  being  obliged  to  pursue  our  horrid  trade,  in 
obedience  to  the  cursed  instincts  of  our  race.  We  are 
not  fond  of  blood,  but  absolutely  know  of  nothing 
else  that  will  sustain  our  existence.  We  must  live, 
you  know." 

I  was  about  to  quote  here  the  well-known  reply 
of  Dr.  Johnson  to  a  similar  remark.  Smiling  with 
melancholy  gaiety,  and  waving  a  dextral  limb  as 
though  asking  a  favor,  he  immediately  continued  as 
follows : 

"I  think  I  anticipate  what  you  would  say;  at 
least,  I  am  sure  there  was  some  sarcasm  in  it.  But, 
could  you  realize  it,  we  are  not  without  our  import- 
ance in  the  scale  of  creation,  and  subserve  a  purpose 


96  A  Tedious  Story. 

by  much,  more  useful  tliaii  any  your  philosophers 
have  grudgingly  assigned  to  us.  This,  however, 
though  not  altogether  foreign  to  my  design,  is  not 
the  subject  in  my  mind  and  heart  at  present." 

The  mosquito  here  smiled  grimly,  and  said,  "  It 
must  doubtless  amuse  you  to  hear  me  speak  of  these 
possessions,  which  you  have  all  along  believed  were 
peculiar  to  the  genus  homo  ;  but  how  could  I  address 
you,  without  a  mind;  and  how  exhibit  feeling,  without 
a  heart?  and,  I  assure  you,  my  kinsmen  are  not 
themselves  disqualified  to  boast  in  that  regard. 

"  I  will  proceed  to  say,  my  object — which,  I  con- 
fess, is  a  little  selfish — has  reference  more  to  myself 
than  to  my  race  in  general.  From  my  youth,  sir — 
I  see  you  smile  again;  but  a  lifetime  is  a  lifetime, 
whether  it  be  a  man's  or  a  mosquito's — from  my 
youth.  I  have  been  painfully  conscious  I  am  not 
like  other  mosquitoes.  My  life  has  been  spent  in 
lonely  thought  and  distracting  speculation.  The 
bitter,  jealous,  utterly  uncharitable  tongues  of  detrac- 
tion and  defamation  have  been  busy  against  me 
almost  from  the  hour  of  my  birth.  The  wittier  and 
more  malicious  of  my  race  have  cracked  an  infinity 
of  jokes  at  my  expense,  while  the  graver  and  more 


A  Tedious  Story.  97 

respectable  have  consistently  frowned  on  all  the  plans 
and  new  ideas  I  have  spread  before  them.  I  have 
aspired,  sir,  to  the  character  of  reformer  and  philan- 
thropist. But,  alas !  my  heart  has  ever  stood  in  the 
way  of  my  success.  Had  I  been  worldly-minded  and 
sordid,  my  talents  wonld  speedily  have  asserted  their 
claims,  and  secured  me,  in  their  exercise,  both  honor 
and  wealth.  I  see  you  smile  again ;  you  are  ready  to 
ask  in  what  consists  the  'wealth'  of  the  mosquito? 
What !  do  you  fancy  we  are  for  ever  on  the  wing, 
and  have  '  no  home  to  call  our  own?' — as  one  of  your 
great  poets,  Mr.  Bunn,  so  beautifully  and  touchingly 
says  ?  Try  and  think  better  of  us.  A  mosquito  with 
an  ordinary  sucker  can  draw,  it  is  calculated,  in  one 
flight  (which  may  consume  an  hour  of  time  as  you 
reckon  it),  enough  sustenence  from  the  veins  of  your 
fellow-creatures  to  answer  his  needs  for  a  whole  day. 
Of  course,  then,  with  the  day's  work  so  readily  accom- 
plished, he  may  dispose  of  his  time  pretty  much  as 
he  pleases ;  and  were  you  curious  enough,  you  might 
chance  to  find  him  decorating  his  abode,  or  sitting  at 
the  feet  of  some  philosopher  of  our  race,  learning 
wisdom,  and,  I  am  free  to  admit,  cunning.  But  I 
digress:  I  have  intimated  to  you  that  I  am  unfor- 


98  A  Tedious  Story. 

tunate  as  regards  the  relations  in  wliich  I  stand  witli 
my  fellows.  It  has  all  along  been  my  fate  to  be  mis- 
understood, and  (of  course)  unappreciated.  My  pre- 
tensions to  the  character  of  philosopher  have  been 
scouted,  and  my  general  claims  to  excellence  unmer- 
cifully derided.  It  is  hard,  sir,"  said  the  insect,  with 
much  emotion,  and  betraying  once  more  some  symp- 
toms of  fatigue,  "it  is  hard,  when  one  has  devoted 
his  life  to  his  race,  to  be  misunderstood  and  suspected 
by  the  very  ingrates  over  whom  his  spirit  has  been 
poured  I" 

Here  he  wrung  his  lancet  in  agony,  and  a  micro- 
scopic tear  trembled  on  his  eyelid.  I  essayed  to  cheer 
him ;  but,  with  the  mournful  flourish  of  a  disengaged 
fore-limb,  he  politely  waved  me  back  to  silence. 
Having  once  more  recovered  his  breath  and  spirits, 
he  steadied  himself  on  several  legs  hitherto  unem- 
ployed, and  proceeded,  as  follows : 

"I  have  no  desire  to  bore  you,  either  with  my 
tongue  or  my  'javelin,'  as  .we  facetiously  call  it, — and 
will  not,  therefore,  rehearse  the  innumerable  disap- 
pointments and  mortifying  repulses  that  have  been 
visited  on  me.  I  may,  perhaps,  be  pardoned,  how- 
ever, if  I  mention  two  of  them,  as  they  by  much 


A  Tedious  Story.  99 

transcend  the  others,  and  stand,  like  mountains,  on 
what  I  may,  in  this  connexion,  call  the  general  plain 
of  my  life.  Above  a  month  ago,  I  broached  a  long- 
considered  scheme  for  the  public  good,  which  I  was 
confident  would  be  received  with  approbation  and 
gratitude.  Expressed  at  length,  my  plan  was  an 
'University  for  the  training  and  perfecting  of  our 
youth  in  the  art  of  pursuing  a  maintenance  with 
safety  and  success.'  I  need  not  say  what  were  my 
feelings  on  achieving  but  ridicule  and  abuse,  in  lieu 
of  that  long-courted  fame  I  knew  I  deserved.  '  Ex- 
perience is  the  only  teacher,'  they  cried.  'But  of 
what  consequence  is  experience  to  one  who  has  been 
crushed  in  gaining  it?'  I  would  respond.  'By  my 
system,  few  or  no  valuable  lives  will  be  sacrificed; 
and  thus,  a  reigning  fear  being  quite  dethroned,  the 
general  happiness  must  be  infinitely  promoted.'  "With 
equally  cogent  arguments  did  I  sustain  the  other  fea- 
tures of  my  plan,  and  combat  the  several  objections 
that  were  urged  against  them.  But  I  was  a  stranger, 
and  totally  unused  to  the  employment  of  winning 
friends.  I  failed;  was  called  a  visionary;  and  was 
absolutely  driven  back  to  my  haunts  by  the  jeers  and 
even  execrations  of  the  people.     Nevertheless,  I  did 


100  A  Tedious  Story. 

not  relax  my  efforts  to  serve  my  kind,  and  in  due 
time  was  ready  with  another  plan,  this  time  founded 
on  a  principle  of  benevolence  still  more  abstract,  but 
exacting  so  little  of  any  one,  and  working  such  an 
immensity  of  good,  on  the  whole,  that  I  fondly  hoped 
none  would  seriously  object  to  it,  while  the  many 
would  at  once  reverse  their  former  hard  decision,  and 
welcome  joyfully  my  scheme  and  me.  I  will  briefly 
explain :  I  discovered,  quite  by  accident,  while  sup- 
ping on  the  superabundant  blood  of  an  alderman,  that 
by  a  simultaneous  mental  and  physical  effort,  the  mat- 
ter usually  deposited  in  the  puncture,  and  operating 
as  a  local  poison,  might  be  retained;  and  thus  the 
pains  I  had  often  witnessed  with  tears — obliged  to 
inflict  the  wound,  yet  powerless  to  avert  the  pain — 
might  be  for  ever  prevented.  With  a  heart  boimd- 
ing  with  joy,  1  made  haste  to  proclaim  my  disco- 
very,— seeing  in  it  a  new  and  quite  practical  means 
of  not  only  sparing  the  human  race  much  pain,  but, 
as  a  natural  consequence,  very  much  lessening  the 
anxiety  of  that  race  to  compass  the  extermination  of 
ours." 

"  Noble  insect !"  I  could  not  here  avoid  exclaiming. 

"  You  will  presently  see  how  highly  I  must  needs 


A  Tedious  Story.  loi 

appreciate  your  generous  expressions,"  returned  tlie 
mosquito,  apparently  mucli  affected.  "You  will,  I 
hope,  believe  me,  sir,  wheil  1  ^sure  you  tiic^t,^'  instead 
of  being  hailed  as  a  philantilrOpist,  f  Was  ifniVersally 
derided  as  a  preposteI^^s^^'Imlki■llea]:tg4.:Iiln^^/'^ 
advised  to  by  all  means  put  in  practice  my  darling 
theory  without  delay.  There  was  even  some  talk  of 
having  me  privately  strangled,  as  a  no  longer  tolerable 
nuisance.  It  almost  broke  my  heart,  sir,"  said  the 
much-moved  insect,  struggling  with  its  passion,  and 
soon  so  far  giving  way  to  that  tender  flood  as  to  cease 
entirely  and  vent  a  diminutive  sob.  My  efforts  to 
comfort  and  re-assure  it  were  long  unsuccessful,  but 
finally  were  so  fortunate  as  to  inspire  it  with  an  appear- 
ance of  cheerfulness. 

"I  have  done,"  it  said,  with  a  sigh.  "  The  gift  and 
privilege  of  your  human  speech  are  at  length  afforded 
me ;  and  I  see  I  have  not  been  mistaken  in  the  one  I 
have  selected  to  hear  me  rehearse  my  woes,  and  hand 
my  name  and  history  down  to  an  admiring  pos- 
terity." 

" I  will  gladly  do  as  you  desire,"  I  hastened  to  say; 
"  and  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  you  are  ever  for- 
gotten." 


102  A  Tedious  Story. 

The  mosquito,  mucTi  moved,  bowed  its  acknowledge- 
ments, and  seemed  at  a  loss  for  expressions  sufficiently 
warm'^(j).c'onvey'it%  ■fi^.eiingj*  of  gratitude  and  attach- 
ment. 

A^r:;ffi,ss<'5'4  goiaetbx©^^  I  remarked,  "Though 
I  have  not  a  superabundant  stock  of  blood  in  my 
veins,  I  would  be  pleased  to  have  you  illustrate  your 
discovery  by  a  painless  operation  on  any  part  of  my 
body  you  may  select :  for,  as  you  justly  remark,  it  is 
the  pain  that  vexes  us,*  and  not  the  loss  of  blood." 

"Nothing  would  give  me  greater  pleasure,"  said 
the  mosquito,  with  an  alacrity  that  a  little  surprised 
me,  considering  its  hitherto  air  of  languor.  "  Many 
of  our  race,"  it  said,  with  sprightliness,  "prefer  to 
attack  the  feet  or  neck  of  a  subject,  as  being  usually 
less  exposed  to  the  elements,  and  therefore  tenderer, 
than  the  hands  and  face ;  but  an  experienced  mosquito 
is  not  so  particular,  and  could  even  get  a  tolerable 
living  from  so  unpromising  a  tract  as  a  thumb-nail." 

With  that,  the  loquacious  insect  took  the  air,  and 
was  at  the  point  of  alighting  on  my  hand,  when 
drawing  back  timidly,  it  said, 

"  I  feel  it  is  weak  to  doubt  you,  yet  I  own  I  am 
seized  with  misgivings  lest  your  old  prejudices  sur- 


A  Tedious  Story.  103 

prise  your  newer  judgment,  and  I  should  be  cruslied 
in  the  general  result." 

This  notion  appeared  so  quaintly  whimsical  I  could 
not  forbear  laughing,  as  I  re-assured  my  tiny  friend, 
declaring  that,  whatever  happened,  its  person  should 
be  held  absolutely  sacred.  At  length,  appearing  to 
have  quite  overcome  its  timidity,  it  alighted  on  that 
soft  part  of  my  hand  between  the  base  of  the  thumb 
and  the  knuckle-joint  of  the  fore  finger,  and  at  once 
inserted  its  amiable  tube.  I  could  not  help  observing 
that  now  it  looked  uncommonly  like  a  very  common 
mosquito.  In  my  speculations  as  to  the  cause  of  this 
apparent  change,  and  general  admiration  of  the  talented 
pest,  I  now  think  I  must  have  spent  a  good  half- 
minute  ;  but  then  I  was  surprised  to  find  he  had  so 
soon  finished  his  meal.  Fancying,  all  at  once,  I  felt 
much  of  the  usual  pain  (and  certainly  a  most  pre- 
posterous swelling  at  once  testified  he  had  not  wasted 
his  time),  I  was  about  to  murmur  a  little,  when  he- 
cut  me  short  by  this  most  expressive  gesture :  Standing 
on  the  summit  of  the  living  mound  his  treachery  had 
raised — which,  swelling  and  rising  every  moment, 
seemed  destined  shortly  to  place  him  in  apogee — he 
coiled  one  of  his  fore-limbs  around  his  ensanguined 


104  ^  Tedious  Story. 

tube  and  flourislied  the  doubled  end  of  another  before 
it  as  though  turning  an  imaginary  crank  fixed  in  the 
end.  He  heightened  the  effect  of  this  expressive 
pantomime  by  pronouncing,  in  a  cheerful,  even  tri- 
umphant tone,  the  sententious  apothegm,  "  Sold  ! " 
Upon  which,  staying  barely  to  wink  his  sinister  eye 
in  an  aggravating  but  wonderfully  knowing  manner, 
he  took  his  flight. 

Somewhat  bewildered,  I  rubbed  my  eyes  a  little, 
although  I  was  never  half  so  wide  awake,  and  groaned 
in  much  bitterness  of  spirit,  eyeing  meanwhile  the 
huge,  inflamed,  aching  mound  of  poisoned  flesh  on 
my  hand.  "  Sold !  and  by  such  a  contemptible  little 
'cus  I'"  I  murmured  spitefully,  as  I  went  in  search  of 
some  hartshorn. 


From  the  fatigue  of  "  heavy  reading"  nothing 
relieves  one  so  effectually  as  a  quiet  and  tender 
strain  of  genuine  poetry — such,  perhaps,  as  the  fol- 
lowing:— 

TO   ANGELINA. 

The. — This  passion,  and  the  death  of  a  near  friend,  would 
go  near  to  make  a  man  look  sad. — Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

TTOW  oft  to  thee,  sweet  one-eyed  friend, 
-*--*-     Must  I  confess  my  errors ! 
B^ere  at  thy  feet  again  I  bend, 
In  your  prim,  tidy  little  room ; 
And  own  I  envy  one,  for  whom 
Strabismus  has  no  terrors. 

From  hobbies,  and  that  sort  of  thing, 

Ko  man  could  well  be  freer ; 
I  sing  of  twenty  when  I  sing — 
I  talk  of  hundreds  when  I  talk; 
But  when  I  tread  my  lonely  walk 

You  are  my  one-eyed  dear. 
5* 


lo6  To  Angelina. 

Oh !  who  can  scent  that  breath,  so  rich, 

Or  note  those  blooming  freckles, 
Or  spy  that  jaunty  wig,  (you  witch!) 
"Without  admiring  you  a  "  heap," 
And  rating  you  "  uncommon  "  cheap 
At  twenty  thousand  sheckels ! 

Talk  not  of  gold — for  you  will  bring 

A  fortune  in  your  "  grinders ;  " 
Those  biHous  ramblers,  staggering, 
With  "ample  room  and  verge"  for  most 
To  play  at  "hide  (for  some  are  lost) 
And  seek" — with  Dental  finders  I 

The  hue  of  beauty  in  your  nose 

Beats  Hogarth's  grandest  notion ; 
For  his,  I  think,  had  but  two  bows, 
But  yours  has  half-a-dozen  crooks 
To  heighten  your  angelic  looks, 
And  seal  my  rapt  devotion ! 

And  need  I  praise  thy  skinny  lips, 
Thou  well-preserved  old  angel ! 
Thou  seest  my  muse  but  Hghtly  skips 
Those  wrinkles — ^which,  I  doubt  me  not, 
Are  "  Hnes  of  beauty  "  too,  and  ought 
Not  to  be  deemed  a  strange  ill. 


To  Angelina.  107 


That  sword-like  chin  I  often  dream 

Is  very  near  another 
Owned  by  myself;  and  then  I  seem 
To  smack  by  instinct — while  the  paint 
Which  I  rub  oflf  seems  like  a  faint 

Impression  of — "  My  Mother  I  " 

Graceful  machine ! — contrived  (Grods  I — Tiow  ?) 

In  some  past  generation : 
What  is  a  Ump,  when  such  as  thou 
Are  lame  ? — ^When  we  o'er  earth  have  swept,. 
Where  shall  we  find  your  match — except 

In  your  imagination  I 

Then  take,  thou  free-gift  of  the  skies — 

With  bulbous  feet  so  tiny, 
Oh !  take,  before  thy  lover  dies, 
His  wretched  heart,  and  make  it  beat 
Like  your  prepost'rous  Dutch  repeat- 

Er,  dearest  Angelina  ! 


MR.    PEPPER'S    FIFTH    LABOR. 


THE  poet  had  long  been  silent.  The  editor  of  tlie 
Knickerbocker  had  received  from  some  misguided 
imitator,  who  thought  to  step  into  the  shoes  of  his 
exemplar,  a  poem  entitled,  "  Stanzays  Adresed  to  mi 
Suetart,"  and  which  he  had  declared  inadmissable : 
exclaiming  with  fervor:  "'Is  the  sword  unswayed? 
Is  the  chair  empty?'  Mr.  Pepper  is  'himself 
alone  I '"  At  this  stage,  the  following  letters  arrived, 
and  cleared  np  the  mystery.  "We  thought  it  very 
strange,"  said  the  editor,  "that  a  poet  like  himself, 
whose  reputation  has  become  so  thoroughly  esta- 
blished, should  be  content  to  repose  upon  his  laurels :" 

"  Demosthenes  Four-Corners,  June  20,  1854. 
"  Mr.  Clark,  Editor  : 

"  Sir  :   Since  your  fruitless  investigations  saying  that  you 
hoped  the  sword  was  not  sheathed,  or  asking  if  the  sword  was 


Mr.  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor.  109 

sheathed — meaning  my  friend  Mr.  Pepper's  pen,  I  conclude — I 
have  now  made  up  my  mind  to  inform  you  definitely  relative  to 
that  G-reat  man. 

"  First :  I  may  say  that  I  adore  Mr.  Pepper's  genius,  although 
different.  I  am,  as  you  may  say,  one  of  his  Antipodes.  I  am 
his  friend.  I  and  Mr.  Pepper  have  sprung  up  into  manhood's 
ripening  Sheaf  side  by  side,  and  called  ourselves  Friends  from 
earHest  infancy.  Sir :  He  has  been  a  blessing  to  me :  I'm 
proud  to  have  been  the  first  that  see  into  him,  and  I  discovered 
much.  He  has  got  a  mind.  He  is  playful  but  gloomy :  Humor- 
ous but  solemn :  Simple  but  intricate :  Pathetic  but  ridiculous. 
Sir :  I  hand  you  a  letter  from  Mr.  Pepper.  It  reveals  much 
that  perhaps  ought  to  be  sacred.  It  was  wrote  to  me,  and  the 
Autograph  is  genuine.     I  would  not  lose  that  letter  for  five  dollars. 

*'  I  send  it  because  it  contains  one  of  those  Gems  that  have  so 
delighted,  astonished,  and  entranced  the  civiUzed  world.  It  is 
peculiarly  Pepperian. 

"  I  send  the  whole  letter  because  a  Gem  always  looks  better 
in  a  setting.     His  setting  is  wonderful. 

"  The  private  hfe  of  great  men  is  a  topic  at  once  interesting 
and  good.  Good,  because  it  invites  people  to  leave  busy  cares 
and  hve  as  they  live.  It  is  no  damage  to  Mr.  Pepper,  because 
he  will  be  deprived  of  the  Magazine  this  summer  in  consequence 
of  not  being  within  fifty  miles  of  a  post-ofl&ce.  He  will  not 
therefore  see  it.  But  pardon  me :  I  keep  you  from  the  rich 
repast  in  store  for  your  mind. 

"  With  consideration.     Sir :    Yours.     P.  Pepper  Popp, 


110  Mr.  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor. 

"  P.S.  You  will  notice  how  Mr.  Pepper's  poetic  mind  trans- 
fers bodies  of  water,  when  I  inform  you  that  the  one  which  he 
has  called  Pepper's  Lake*  is  but  six  rods  in  width  and  two 
feet  eight  inches  in  depth.  Its  former  name  was  '  Mudsucker 
Pond.' 

"  Oh !  the  powers  of  that  individual's  G-enius  !  I  am  proud  that 
any  part  of  my  name  resembles  his,  and  I  give  it  prominence  in 
honor  of  him.  p.  p.  p." 

Pepper's  Laik,  Oune  15th. 

Deke  Feller  : 

Wot  wood  you  tliincs  ef  you  shood  see  me  now ! 
Here  i  am,  a  rusty  katin,  fur  away  frum  evertHng,  bi 
the  side  ov  a  lovly  egspans  ov  wotter — ^wicb,  as  i  hev 
1st  discuverd  its  Beutys,  &  doant  no  no  other  naim, 
i  aph  mi  oan  cignacher  to  it. 

Hevin  retired  frum  the  werld  fur  a  sesun,  to  com- 
une  with  Nacher,  &  giv  mi  genus  a  restin  spel,  i  hv 
like  a  nankerite,  al  aloan  bi  miself — a-fishin  &  a- 
romin  &  a-seein  ov  the  things  gro.  i  doant  wair 
nothin  but  a  shirt  &  pant,  as  here  the  cloathin  is  soo- 
pirfloous ;  mi  baird  hesent  ben  teched  far  suthin  over  a 
weke,  &  i  looc  savig,  i  ken  tel  you ! — ^but  o  how  Tran- 

*  "  That  something  might  serve  to  perpetuate  Greatness  and 
be  the  Tristing-place  fpr  Qenus." 


Mr.  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor.  1 1 1 

kil  i  am ! —  i  hretli  now,  &  slepe  cuiet.  ime  a-gainin  al 
the  wile ;  &  ef  I  doant  stop  soon  i  must  hi  a  noo 
soot. 

i  am  a-compoasin  a  Grait  Pome,  mi  boy,  hi  spels,  & 
I's  in  a  wile  i  thro  of  a  htle  feller,  bi  way  ov  varity. 
mi  genus  is  ever  a-sterrin,  &  kepes  me  oncumfertabel 
moast  ov  the  time,  bi  resun  ov  the  presher.  wot  it 
wood  doo  ef  it  hed  a  chans,  i  donno.  but  the  conse- 
kenses  wo6d  be  dredfal  to  mi  helth.  You  no  we 
Littery  men  air  trubbeld  a  good  dele  with  pane  in  the 
bowls,  &c4th.  o  how  i  delite  to  rise  with  the  Son, 
wen  the  doo  is  onto  the  gras,  &  wock  into  the  woods 
wair  its  dri ! — i  hear  the  Berds  a-cherrupin  so  hapy  it 
maiks  me  fele  bad;  &  i  ask  Wi  it  is  ime  so  mellan- 
coUy  &  sad  ? — wi  Wo  kepes  a-hangin  aroun  &  maiks 
me  carry  his  cloak  ?  No  boddy  spekes,  so  i  anser : 
Genus,  tliairs  the  cecrit.  o  wot  a  cus  wen  youve  got 
too  much ! — ef  i  hed  a  litle  moar,  ide  spine  away, 
&  finelly  di.  as  it  is,  ime  verry  febel ;  so  i  fish,  & 
dyit  strong,  &  roam  into  the  darknis  ov  the  Ainshen 
Forrist.  You  smil,  and  thine  ov  Musketer.  but  youm 
rong.  musketer  is  a  blessing,  ef  propperly  tooc. 
doant  the  scrachin  maik  you  onhapy,  k  aint  onhapines 
the  food  ov  genus  ?     wi,  ime  so  onmindful  i  let  him 


112  Mr.  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor. 

bite,  &  scaisly  doo  nothin, — oanly  i  bev  swoar  to 
thine  secb  a  appetite  is  denid  to  bewman  Beings, 
musketer  must  liv.  be  is  tbe  part  ov  profidens  as 
bites,  &  notbin  wotever  ken  cbaing  bim  but  a-bringin 
ov  bim  up  bi  band,  egskews  tbe  goak. 

i  inkerd  a  naxident  wilst  a-sabn  onto  tbe  laik  tbe 
utber  day.  i  wos  a-lyin  onto  mi  ores  in  tbe  senter  ov 
tbe  laik,  a-dremin  ov  Faim  &c4tb,  &  wile  so  doin  i 
fel  into  a  depe  studdy — also  sballo  wotter,  wicb  was 
mity  fortinet,  wosent  it  ?  i  waidid  out  sloly,  a-tbinkin 
wot  a  nar  escaip  it  wos ;  &  tbougt  ef  it  wos  deper 
eny  wers  nerer  tbe  sboar  ide  bi  a  life-preserver. 

Wilst  a-reclinin  onto  tbe  bang,  a-dryin  on  miself  bi 
tbe  Son,  tbe  mews  caim  suddently,  &  i  compoased 
tbe  folowin  lines : 

TO  MY  LITLE  HOUS : 

A-FRUNTIN  ONTO  THE  LAIK. 

o  Hous ! — altho  you  speke  not, 

i  speke,  &  say  you  shant  be  forgot : 

Altho  youm  nothin  but  boards, 

&  ov  Goald  hevent  no  hoards — 

like\7ais  no  Wiados,  egsept  1 

lite  in  tl^e  bac,  to  let  in  the  Son, 

(bein  wair  i  slepe  and  stay  wen  it  rains). 


Mr.  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor.  113 

i  must  say  ive  tooc  no  pains 
to  consele  my  afeckshun  fur  your  presinks. 
o  no ! — altho  youm  a  Hut,  your  fren  thincs 
a  Pallis  wood  be  inconveanyent : 
Becos  no  i  likes  to  be  sent 
Wen  hese  tierd,  up  3  or  4  pair  stairs 
to  bed.     hese  got  uther  Afairs 
to  fateag  him  onto  the  1st  floor. 

o  no,  dare  Hous ! — ^Ambishun  is  ore ; 
&  i  liv  in  you  contentid  as 
the  Cezar  duz  into  his  largist  glas 
Pallis,  wich  cost  2000  dollers. 
So  it  is  alius.     Kachers  scollers 
lerns  how  to  be  hapy  evry  wair : 
Wen  trubbel  cums,  they  doant  cair, 
But  fle  away  to  the  Woods 
&  git  setteld.     Hoo  wonts  goods, 
or  munny,  wen  he  may  git  chetid, 
&  hev  al  ov  his  hapines  defetid 
Bi  a-puttin  ov  his  trust  into  Prinsis 
&  uther  Tirans  as  doant  settel  thayr  biznis  ? 

no,  dere  Hous ! — giv  me  Nacher  &  you, 
&  ile  travvil  this  Werld  throo, 
a-fishin,  &  a-roamin,  &  a-compogin  potry: 
&  may  i  be  at  hoam  wen  i  di. 

Wot  doo  you  thine  ov  that  last  line  :  aint  it  Huj  ? 
-thats  ariginel,  mi  Boj.     Genus  dwels  into  that  line. 


114  ^^'  Pepper's  Fifth  Labor. 

But  i  must  stop  a-ritin.  rite  to  me  al  about  A^icJc- 
erbocher^  &c4tli.  it  doant  cum  here,  i  wonder  ef  its 
stopt  a-publishin.  i  hevent  roat  fur  it  now  fur  a  good 
wile. 

Now  mi  Boy,  be  cairful  ov  your  helth,  &  anser  this 
imejitly. 

frum  your  fren 

K.  N.  Pepper. 


JS   IS    JS 
^      m      ^ 

^      i      m 


m    ^    ^ 


A  LYTELL  GESTE  OF  LEWYS  CLARKE. 


Lead  forth,  O  clarke,  the  chaunting  quire." — Lenora. 


[The  origin  of  this  fine  old  ballad,  is  enveloped  in  considerable 
mystery.  It  may  possibly  have  been  contemporaneous  with 
"Clym  of  the  Clough,"  or  even  "The  Nut-Browne  Mayde;" 
but  a  more  plausible  supposition  is,  that  it  was  written  about  the 
time  of  (Mr.  Pitbladdle  thinks  a  little  before)  the  well-known 
"  Eobyn  Hode."  It  is  certainly  a  very  old  and  very  singular' 
production ;  and  it  is  amazing  that  neither  Percy's  "  Reliques," 
Eitson's  two  collections,  Evan's  "  Old  Ballads,"  "  The  Crown 
Garland  of  Grolden  Roses,"  nor  indeed  any  important  work, 
should  contain  it.  It  seems  to  have  existed  in  Folio  MS.  for 
many  years,  and,  so  far  as  the  editor  can  learn,  has  never  even 
sparkled  from  a  broadside,  or  the  pages  of  a  black-letter  tract. 
From  some  data  in  the  possession  of  the  editor,  and  furnished 
by  the  very  old  but  still  intelligent  person  who  sang  it  to  him, 
it  is  rendered  tolerably  certain  that  the  hero,  "  Lewys  Clarke," 
was  the  editor  of  a  (for  those  days)  very  good  magazine,  called 
the  Nyher  Bogger — whatever  that  may  have  meant — and  at  the 
time  the  poem  was  written  had  begun  to  cultivate  the  full 


1 1 6      A  Lytell  Geste  of  Lewys  Clarke. 

beard — ^being  jealous  of  his  friend  "Charlys  Elyott,"  a  painter, 
of  great  celebrity,  because  Charlys  had  an  uncommonly  fine  one, 
of  that  pattern,  and  was  much  admired  by  the  ladies.  The 
appearance  of  Lewys,  at  that  time — his  beard  being  about  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  in  length — is  said  to  have  been  formidable  in 
the  extreme.  A  little  boy,  aged  four  years — the  son  of  religious 
parents — is  reported  to  have  been  so  crazed  at  the  sudden  sight 
of  him,  as  to  fall  a  swearing  with  great  vehemence ;  which 
habit  it  never  afterward  left  off,  much  to  the  grief  of  those 
excellent  people.  It  died,  of  a  compound  curse,  after  Ungering 
fourteen  years  in  extreme  profanity.] 

tl)^  I'mi  Jgtte. 

44<WITHE  (i)  and  lyften,  gentylmen," 
<-^     And  well  my  ftorye  marke ; 
"  I  fhall  you  tell  of  a  good  yeman/* 
Hys  name  was  Lewys  Clarke. 

He  was  a  man  that  myrthes  cowde,  (2) 

**  Whiles  he  walked  on  grounde ; 
So  courteyfe  a  yeman  as  he  was  one. 

Was  never  none  yfounde." 

Ynne  (3)  mani  bokes  had  he  delyght. 

Yet  was  he  fcaunt  of  baird  : 
For  fliauvynge  was  he  bende  betymes 

Ynne  mornyng :  fo  he  cared. 

Lewys  toke  hym  a  gode  wyfe, 
Shope  (4)  to  hys  harts  defyres ; 
Full  mony  yere  he  dwalt  with  hyr, 
Ynne  hows  of  hys  own  hyre. 


A  Lytell  Geste  of  Lewys  Clarke.      117 

On  (5)  tyde  (6)  he  flode  ynne  hys  gardaun 

*'  And  lened  hym  to  a  tre  ;" 
And  by  hym  ftode  hys  cumly  feir,  (7) 

And  wurds  thys  Much  spake  she : 

"  Lewys,  to  thys  my  rede  (8)  geffe  (9)  ere : 

Ynne  pyte  let  thi  here,  (10) 
Lyke  eremite  or  goodlye  clerk,  (11) 

Comen  (12)  upon  thy  lere.  (13) 

Elf  muft  I  wepe  my  eyen  owt :" 

Hyr  (14)  teres  begond  comyn;  (15) 
Then  befpake  hym  Lewys  Clarke 

All  unto  hyr  wyth  wynne :  (16) 

"Gramercy,  (17)  luve,"  fayd  Lewys, 

And  kyft  hyr  lytell  hond  ; 
"  Fornewe  (18)  heft  thou  fyxit  my  mynde  :  (19) 

Thilk  (20)  teres  I  pray  commond." 


5[|)e  Seconk  Jgtte. 

4|CW]>YTH  (21)  and  lyften,  gentylmen, 
<^     All  that  now  be  here," 
To  Lewys  what  Ihold  nowe  befall, 
Ynne  (22)  londe  where  that  he  were. 

Now  is  (23)  Lewys  went  to  the  toun, 

Hys  baird  he  ftrokyt  wel ; 
And  preftlye  (24)  chaunted  of  a  fonge : 

**  Al  rowynde  my  hatte,"  (25)  yt  felle. 


ii8      A  Lytell  Geste  of  Lewys  Clarke. 

Then  fpake  that  gentyll  yeman  : 

The  teres  ftand  ynne  hys  eyen — 
"  GoDAMARCEY  !  (26)  longe  (27)  yehone  (28) 

Thilk  manli  heres  of  myne  ! 

"Thys  ylke  (29)  day  Charlys  Elyott  (30) 
Sail  (31)  paynt  wone  blythe  of  blee:  (32) 

And  eke  (33)  we  (34)  envye  dy  nerly. 
That  nere  flike  (35)  baird  hath  hee." 

Thos  pleaufantly  hee  recht  Charlys, 

Woo  (36)  toke  hym  for  fum  noder :  (37) 

"Ynne  confeyuence,  (38)  neybor,  wold  you  goo  ?  (39) 
I  lyk  not  of  your  odour." 

Sone  as  Elyott  kent  (40)  Lewys, 

Hym  feyd  :  "  Now,  Lewys,  doe 
Ynne  pyte  choppe  (41)  for  hewman  feem. 

Or  call  me  frend  ne  mo."  (42) 

"  Alas  !"  then  fayd  good  Lewys, 

"  Alas,  what  have  I  do  !  (43) 
What  ys  to  me  a  flowynge  baird, 

Yf  Charlys  ys  my  foo  ?"  (44) 

Now  have  Lewys  ifwore  hys  othe. 

For  home  hee  begond  to  serch: 
He  was  as  will  of  rede,  (45)  ynne  trouthe. 

As  ever  was  hare  ynne  Merch. 

EXPLYCIT  m   LEWYS   CLARKE  AND   CHARLYS  ELYOTT: 
QUOTH  JACQUES  MAURICE. 


A  Lytell  Geste  of  Lewys  Clarke.       119 


1.  Crowd  up.  2.  Could  raise  a  laugh  at  his  own  expense.  3. 
In :  not  hotel.  4.  Constructed.  5.  One :  half  of  two.  6. 
Morning  before  breakfast.  7.  Own  heart's  queen.  8.  Advice : 
gratis.  9.  Give,  or  lend,  according  to  disposition.  10.  In  fact, 
neither  here  nor  there.  The  word  is  significant  of  bristles.  11. 
Savan.  12.  The  same  without  the  n.  13.  Cheek  :  in  which  Lewys 
was  not  lacking.  14,  Lewys's  wife's.  15.  "  Coming,  Sir."  16.  ^ 
Joy :  not  wine.  17.  Much  obliged  to  you  :  no  aUuLsion  to  Parh 
of  that  name.  18.  Now,  if  ever.  19.  Mind :  no  great  matter. 
20.  These :  not  silk.  21.  Another  way  of  spelling  it.  22.  The 
same  house.  23.  As :  youWe  one  if  you  don't  remember  it.  24. 
Wretchedly,  in  this  case.  25.  The  title  of  an  ancient  hymn.  26. 
God  be  thanked.  27.  Along  of.  28.  Each  one:  not  OchI 
Hone!  29.  Very:  very  likely.  30.  Pinxit.  31.  Shall 3#no^ 
Sarah.  32.  Of  majestic  countenance.  33.  Also :  sometimes 
Ezekiel.  34.  With :  as,  will  you  drink  we  me  ?  35.  Such-Hke. 
36.  Who:  thus,  woo  be  you?  37.  Other:  not  sonnambulist. 
38.  Conscience :  a  myth :  a  good  joke,  to  talk  of  Lewys's  con- 
science. 39.  Go :  (Of)  40.  Kenned :  in  justice,  caned.  41. 
Change  :  no  small  change  here.  42.  No  more :  Idng  as  nexxr  as 
our  ancestors  thought  it  prudent  to  come.  43.  Done  :  as,  do  brown : 
meaning,  done  to  that  tint.  44.  Foe :  not  foo-foo.  45.  Disturbed 
in  mind :  displeased :  angry :  mad.    46.  "  That's  all,  about,"  &c, 

mm 


MR.  PEPPER'S  MOURNFUL  SIXTH. 


NOW  for  it.    Brace  yourself  with  a  little  cordial, 
and  then  take  my  hand.     Feel  along  carefully, 
and — there ;  stand  still  a  moment. 
Mr.  PoDD  is  speaking : 

"Demosthenes  Four-Corners,  July  20, 1854. 

"  Mr.  Clark.  Editor.  Sir  :  Since  I  favored  you  with  my 
last,  great  changes  have  obscured  the  face  of  the  sun  of  Liberty 
and  Happines,  which  have  been  in  the  Habit  of  shining  in  favored 
spots  regular.  Despots  continue  to  sway  the  aspect  of  things. 
But  their  reign  is  short,  Sir.  I  repeat  it :  Short.  Changes  must 
come.  As  a  significant  fact,  Mr.  Pepper  has  changed.  He  is  no 
longer  playful.  He  is  gloomy — gloomy.  I  am  afraid  his  genus 
is  about  to  sink  in  a  blaze  of  glory  and  go  out.  Yes  Sir :  I  be- 
gin to  be  alarmed  for  his  Existence.  His  heart  is  too  suscepti- 
ble :  Altogether.  It  has  been  touched,  Sir :  Rudely  touched. 
Many  of  the  strings  have  I  fear  been  snapped.  But  let  the  elo- 
quent and  feeling  letter  he  wrote  upon  the  subject  tell  the  tale. 


Mr.  Pepper's  Mournful  Sixth.  121 

It  will  be  seen  that  he  is  the  combined  victim  of  Affection  and 
a  Tyrant.  But  my  hand  is  influenced  by  the  emotions  of  my 
heart.     It  trembles.     Adieu.  '^  P.  Pepped  Podd." 

" '  Pepper's  laik,  guly  12. 

"  '  Dere  Feller  :  Hevin  I's  moar  a  opertoonity  ov  cendin  you 
a  few  hns,  i  avail  miself  ov  it  to  I'st,  moar  pertickeler  as  i  hev 
much  to  inform  you  wich  i  cant  berry  into  mi  oan  boosum. 

"  '  0  Podd,  Podd,  w-ot  hapines — wot  misery — wot  rapcher  and 
goy — wot  mizzery  &  Wo  ive  sufferd  sens  i  rote  be4.  it  semes 
moar  like  a  dreme — oanly  i  no  it  aint,  &  a  dreme  woodent  maik 
me  loos  so  much  in  boddy.  ime  thin  as  a  waifer,  dere  boy — & 
a  good  dele  witer  onto  the  serfis.  mi  apetite  (wich  you  no  wos 
alus  precaris)  hes  now  dwindeld  into  nothin,  &  i  doant  beleve 
ive  ete  a  hanful  in  4  days,  i  kepe  insid  the  house  &  lay  onto  mi 
fais,  a-groanin  dredful,  &  a-syin  al  the  time  i  doant  groan,  but  i 
no  it  must  be  a  speshy  ov  ageny  to  hev  to  wait  long  fur  a 
explanashun  ov  this  miss  tery.     ile  releve  you  in  but  few  werds. 

it  wos  the  21th  ov  gune.     erly  in  the  mornin.     i o  my  felins 

is  sech  i  doant  no  as  i  ken  revele.  wi  did  i  comens  the  haroin 
tale  ?  but  ile  subdoo  mi  emoshuns  &  persede  with  camnes. 
rite  pen ! — ^kepe  a-ritin.     paws  not. 

"  '  i  hed  jest  got  threw  a-washing  out  side  the  doar,  &  wos 
a- wiping  miself  onto  the  toul,  wen  i  herd  a  shrik  giv  by  a  butiful 
yung  lady  in  ageny.  i  looct  around  in  frensy,  &  saw  nothin.  in 
a  instant  a  1  hors  wagon  floo  around  the  corner,  drawed  by  a 
frantic  anunel.  in  that  wagon  wos  a  man  a-hoaldin  ov  the  lins 
&  a  yung  Lady,     mi  resolooshun  wos  tooc.     i  put  a  stun  into 


122         Mr.  Pepper's  Mournful  Sixth. 

the  toul,  &  wen  the  hors  caim  up  i  spotted  him.  he  dropt  so 
cuick  the  man  &  yung  lady  boath  picht  forids,  &  wos  a-pickin 
thayrselves  up  wen  i  turnd  around,  wot  a  Vizzion  she  wos  I 
throo  al  the  dert  i  cood  se  Buty  I  '  Mi  preserver !'  sed  she,  in  a 
angihc  vois,  a-settin  ov  herselft  onto  a  stun,  i  floo  to  her,  & 
maid  a  faint  ov  folhn  onto  1  ne.  '  doant,'  said  she,  '  youl  derty 
your  pans  :'  wich  woa  troo,  besids  bein  considerit.  so  i  dident, 
but  i  tooc  her  hand  &  sed  she  wos  welcum  to  mi  servis,  wich 
wos  no  trubel,  &  ide  be  hapy  to  spot  a  hors  fur  her  evry  day. 
she  smild  hevinly,  &  sed  i  wos  '  A- Jack'  (a  cmart  ainshen.)  1 
cald  her  Helin,  wich  she  sed  wos  a  mistaik,  as  her  naim  wos 
Hanah  gane  Walters,  i  then  sed  she  hed  also  mistooc  my 
cignacher,  wich  wos  Mr.  K.  N.  Pepper  Esq.  Youd  orter  seen 
the  looc  ov  surpris  &  plesyour  as  her  fechers  wos  spred  with 
wen  i  opend  onto  her  with  that  anounsment !  she  tooc  notis  ov 
me  for  a'  ninstant  kind  ov  wild,  then  sudently  giv  way  to  her 
emoshuns  &  wept,  in  a  short  time  the  toul  sacherated  with  her 
teres,  &  i  wos  a-thinkin  ov  gittin  a  dry  1,  wen  she  dride  up  the 
fount,  &  she  &  the  man  wich  she  cald  pa,  as  wos  hirt  onto  his 
hed,  staid  with  me  severil  days,  i  red  al  mi  pomes  to  her,  &  we 
got  pirty  thic.  al  to  I's  the  Faither  rekiverd  &  anounst  that  thay 
must  go  hoam.  '  Ken  you  leve  ?'  sed  i,  in  broken  ax  cents  &  a 
thic  vois.  hers  wos  thic  wen  she  sed  she  coodent  no  way.  we 
then  hugd.  wot  bliss !  but  the  crule  Faither  put  in  his  ore,  & 
Al  wos  ore.  he  hed  to  choak  her  of.  as  he  wos  a-levin  he 
remarct  that  he  wos  werth  $900  dolars,  &  he  thougt  it  wos  redic- 
kalus,  raither.    but  ef  it  wos  spoart  to  him,  it  wos  deth  to  me  & 


Mr.  Pepper's  Mournful  Sixth.         123 

her.  She  sed  2  or  3  times  she  shoodent  ete  eny  thing ;  &  the 
onfelin  Rech  at  last  spoak  &  sed  it  wood  saiv  vittels.  Wen  thay 
disapeard  roun  the  corner — she  a-\vaivin  her  hankerchif,  i  a- 
hoaldin  up  mi  hans  in  mewt  dispair, — i  sunc  onto  the  floar,  &  in 
my  ageny  toar  of  al  mi  vest  buttons  in  1  gerk,  &  struc  sumthin 
hard  onto  the  floar.  it  wos  1  ov  mi  aingels  puf-coams,  as  fel  in 
the  hart  rending  struggel.  i  dident  mind  the  ile,  but  kist  it  al 
the  rest  ov  the  day.  its  be4  me  now.  its  al  as  kepes  me  aliv. 
heres  wot  i  rote  wen  i  becum  cam  enuf  to  hoald  a  pen : 

"'TO    THE    AINGEL    AS    IS    GON. 

' '  o  Hanah,  Hanah,  Han  ah  dere : 

GANE  Walters  I  wers  the  vizzhun  now  ? 
Dispers  fur  ever  moar  i  fere 

(bi)  Your  Faither  with  the  angry  Brow. 

"  '  o  Hannah  !  ken  i  say  youm  gon  ? 

To  a  onkind  Fait  must  Pepper  bow  ? 
A.  •  then  wele  pile  our  cursis  on — 

(to)  Your  Faither  with  the  angry  Brow. 

"  *  0  wot  a  load  to  carry  round ! 
To  fre  hisself  he  donno  how : 
A  onhapy  man  now  wock  the  ground — 
(its)  Your  Faither  with  the  angry  Brow. 

"  '  but,  lovly  Hanah,  doant  dispair, 

doant  talk  on  bad,  doant  rais  no  row ; 
1  man  '11  feel  remors  &  cair — 

(its)  Your  Faither  with  the  angry  Brow. 


124         ^^*  Pepper's  Mournful  Sixth. 

"  '  wot  chaing  hes  cum  it  oar  our  dremes ! 
Wot  Hap'nis  I's,  wot  miz'ry  now! 
But  Grustis  lay  the  blaim,  it  semes, 

(onto)  Your  Faither  with  the  angry  Brow. 

"  '  in  Graiv  we  mete,  ef  no  waris  els, 


Mi  Hanah  dere,  i  make  a  vow — 
Or  sooner  ef  Deth  the  spirrit  cuels 

(ov)  Your  Faither  with  the  angry  Brow. 

"  '  o  PoDD,  PoDD — i  wos  afraid  i  shood  di  be4  i  got  that  dun. 
but  its  dun  now,  &  i  doant  no  wether  to  send  it  to  her  or  let  it 
be  found  amungst  mi  efex.  ef  i  doant  hury  it  wil  be  the  last. 
Dere  Podd,  good  bi — ^peraps  fur  ever.  Podd  good  bi,  good  bi. 
I's  moar  good  bi,  from  your  old  fren 

K.  N.  Pepper. 

"  '  n.  b.  encloased  is  a  loc  ov  mi  hair,  ef  i  di,  let  my  funerl 
be  privit.  let  Hanah  ganes  puf-coam  be  berrid  with  me.  tel 
her  i  wos  troo,  &  dide  fur  her. 

"'FairweL  k.  n.  p.' " 


ON    NOSES. 


"  Said  Aaron  to  Moses, 
'  Let's  cut  off  our  noses. 
Said  Moses  to  Aaron, 
*  It's  the  fashion  to  wear  'em.'  " 

HOW  the  above  amnsing  and  authentic  anecdote 
has  been  preserved  to  us,  would  be  an  interest- 
ing question  for  the  antiquary.  Considering  the  lapse 
of  time  since  the  date  of  that  remarkable  conversation, 
it  ought  not  to  surprise  us  that  so  little  of  the  lighter 
chit-chat  of  these  humorous  High  Priests  should  now 
remain,  but  rather  that  <2n?/*crap  could  have  clung  to 
the  memory  of  man  for  so  long  a  period.  Where 
Aaron  acquired  a  notion  so  absurd,  cannot  now  be 
learned.     It  would  appear  that  the  influence  of  the 


126  On  Noses. 

more  sensible  Moses  was  sufficient  to  prevent  tlie 
precipitate  Aaron  from  ridding  himself  of  a  feature 
which,  however  unornamental,  was  certainly  useful,  if 
not  indispensable.  After  reading  a  statement  so  dis- 
paraging, one  cannot  help  losing  somewhat  of  that 
respect  for  Aaron  which,  in  a  general  way,  attaches  to 
the  cloth.  Ko  matter  if  his  nasal  protuberance  was  as 
homely  as  that  of  the  little  boy  who  complained  to  his 
mother  that  his  nose  "  grew  pugger  and  pugger  every 
day ;"  he  could  on  no  principle  be  excused  for  sever- 
ing it  from  the  face  for  which  it  was  made.  And  if 
the  act  proposed  would  have  been  one  of  pure  wan- 
tonness— which  we  suspect  was  the  case — we  cannot 
find  words  sufficiently  energetic  for  the  adequate  ex- 
pression of  our  shocked — nay,  horrified  feelings.  On 
the  other  hand,  we  honor  Moses  with  peculiar  homage 
for  his  manly  and  dignified  stand  upon  the  nose  of  his 
friend.  Note  his  gentlemanly  deference  to  the  opi- 
nions and  usages  of  the  community.  In  his  laconic 
but  qpmprehensive  reply  he  says  only,  "  It's  the  fashion 
to  wear  'em."  It  is  propel  to  infer  that  this  reply  had 
the  happiest  effect  upon  Aaron.  It  presented  to  him 
the  inconvenience  of  being  without  a  nose,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  idea  of  singularity — of  being  "  out  of 


On  Noses.  127 

fashion ;"  wliich,  in  those  days — when  a  man  at  two 
or  three  hundred  was  still  thought  young — must  have 
been  the  most  terrible  one  that  Moses  could  have  sug- 
gested. "We  may  also  believe  that  Moses  had  a  rever- 
ence for  the  nasal  feature,  as  a  feature ;  and  that  it 
pained  his  sense  of  fitness  and  proportion  to  imagine 
the  human  countenance  as  divested  of  it.  It  is  this 
feeling  with  which  we  sympathize  most  deeply  in  the 
present  article ;  for  the  question  of  fashion  has  come 
to  affect  the  shape,  rather  than  the  existence,  of  the 
nose.  It  may  sound  oddly  to  some  io  speak  of  the 
nose  in  this  technical  way  ;  but  let  them  ask  almost 
any  mother  to  describe  how,  by  innumerable  pinches, 
she  fashioned  the  noses  of  her  offspring — redeemed 
them  from  "pug"-ness,  or  checked  their  banian-like 
tendency  to  turn  toward  the  root — and  they  may  be- 
gin to  realize  that  the  idea  is  not  absurd. 

Beside  the  notion  of  mere  servile  imitation,  in  these 
artist-minded  mammas — shaping  a  nose  after  the  rich 
Mr.  A's,  or  the  fashionable  Miss  B's — two  ideas  may 
be  mentioned,  as  having  a  particularly  controlling 
effect.  First,  and  most  widely  prevalent,  is  that  of 
beauty.  Few  are  insensible  to  the  beauty  or  effect  of 
a  well-turned  nose.     After  the  eyes  and  mouth,  per- 


128  On  Noses. 

haps  the  nose  takes  the  first  place  in  a  description  of 
features.  "  She's  very  pretty — ^that  is,  would  be,  were 
it  not  for  that  horrid  nose ! "  or,  "  what  a  fine  nose 
Mr.  C.  has ! "  are  expressions  familiar  to  every  one. 
The  other  idea  is  that  of  character.  There  is  a  great 
deal  of  character  in  a  nose.  That  is,  the  nose  is  often 
made  qnite  an  index  of  character ;  not  always,  or  per- 
haps often,  willingly — ^but  insensibly^  and  not  the  less 
surely.  Both  these  ideas  will  be  further  illustrated 
in  the  following  analysis. 

The  Grecianf  nose  is  usually  considered  the  finest 
and  most  noble  of  all  the  varieties.  It  is  distinguished 
by  its  being  "  well  planted"  between  the  brows,  and 
straight  upon  the  ridge,  and  by  its  firm,  well-turned 
nostrils.  It  lends  dignity  and  grace  to  the  counte- 
nance, and  is  significant  of  truth,  honor,  purity,  and 
delicacy  of  mind.  JSTobleness,  openness,  and  liberality 
of  mind  and  heart  are  suggested  by  it.  It  may  be 
mentioned  here,  however,  that  these  signs  are  by  no 
means  infallible,  and  the  same  may  be  said  in  relation 
to  those  which  follow.  (My  pocket  was  once  picked 
by  a  Grecian-nosed  thief) 

The  Roman  nose  is  also  much  admired,  as  being 
indicative  of  manliness  and  vigor  of  mind,  and  lofti- 


On  Noses.  129 

ness  of  purpose.  The  ridge,  instead  of  being  straight, 
is  raised  in  the  middle,  generally  so  as  to  form  an  ob- 
tuse angle,  though  sometimes  it  has  a  continuous 
curve.  This  variety  of  nose  is  suggestive  of  strength 
rather  than  delicacy  of  mind,  and  of  prudence  than 
generosity.  Both  the  varieties  which  have  been  men- 
tioned depend  much  for  their  favorable  significance 
upon  the  purity  of  their  "  lines,"  and  degree  of  per 
fection  of  "  chisseling." 

The  Aquiline  nose  is  curved  and  hooked,  like  the 
bill  of  the  eagle.  It  is  usually  accompanied  by  sharp- 
ness and  activity  of  mind,  but  is  indicative  rather  of 
acuteness  than  solidity.  It  is  also  an  accompaniment 
of  cunning,  selfishness,  and  rapacity.  (If  the  reader, 
or  his  wife,  has  such  a  nose,  he  will  of  course  know 
the  case  is  an  "exception.") 

The  Retrousse  nose  is  vulgarly  called  the  "  turn-up." 
It  is  rarely  accompanied  by  nobleness  or  greatness  of 
mind,  but  rather  signifies  one  absorbed  by  self  The 
possessor  of  such  a  nose  may  be  witty,  sensitive,  and 
"  thin-skinned,"  but  rarely  generous,  manly,  or  high- 
souled.  On  this  kind  of  nose  "hats"  have  been  sus- 
pended. 

The  "Pw^"-nose — the  poor  little  pug-nose;  what 
6^ 


130  On  Noses. 

need  be  said  of  tlie  pug-nose  ?  Everybody  knows  tbe 
pug-nose.  Not  "  big  enougli  to  pull,"  or  small  enough 
to  be  called  a  wart,  it  can  neither  be  blown  nor  worn 
with  satisfaction,  and  is  only  possessed  by  men  as 
little  in  proportion  as  the  excrescence  itself  Napo- 
leon gave  small-nosed  men  a  particularly  wide  berth — 
and  there  was  reason. 

There  are  modifications  of  all  these  varieties ;  and, 
indeed,  a  great  portion  of  all  the  noses  may  be  termed 
modifications.  Then  we  have  the  "  bottle-nose,"  the 
"  carbuncle  nose,"  the  "  rum-blossom  nose,"  the 
"  squab-nose,"  the  ^'flat  nose,"  and  the  nose  with  the 
knob  at  the  end.  The  next  to  the  last  named- variety 
embraces  the  African  nose.  A  wide  nostril  denotes 
a  deep,  full  chest.  A  Yerj  red  and  highly -inflamed 
nose  is  significant  of  "  apple-jack,"  which  is  a  "  weak- 
ness." 

"Washington  had  a  very  fine,  wide-ridged  Grecian 
nose.  The  Greeks  are  generally  supposed  to  have 
Grecian  noses.  Wellington  had  a  remarkable  Eoman 
nose,  and  most  Eomans  have  them  likewise.  John 
Eandolph  and  Tristram  Burgess  had  aquiline  noses. 
^^Turnrup,"  and  "pug"  noses  are  not  commonly 
sported  by  great  men. 


On  Noses.  131 

A  race  of  people — fhank  Heaven  becoming  extinct 
— called  Yankees,  have  succeeded  in  converting  tlie 
nose  into  a  musical  instrument, — of  wondrous  power, 
but  somewhat  deficient  in  sweetness.  It  is  not  com- 
monly considered  so  good  as  the  natural  organ,  and,  it 
is  to  be  fervently  hoped,  will  in  time  be  disused. 

We  have  only  to  fancy  the  human  countenance 
divested  of  the  nose,  to  agree  with  Moses  that  the 
nasal  appendage  is  "  very  good  in  its  place."  The  ad- 
vocates of  Aaron's  theory  are  becoming  rare. 


MR.   PEPPER'S  GREAT   ODE. 


READEK,  I  have  not  tlie  heart  to  add  to  the  elo- 
quent words  which  follow,  introducing  to  the 
world  what  seemed  Mr.  Pepper's  last  letter  and 
poem : — 

''The  '  Or  eat  Pote^  has  emerged  from  the  desolateness  of  his 
transient  rusticity  into  the  light  of  society  and  'frens.'  But 
alas!  Pepper  is  a  wreck  1  Let  his  note  'revele.'  Its  sombre 
shadows  disclose  a  ponderous  '  wo '  which  his  sensitive  dehcacy 
alone  warns  him  to  withhold,  in  all  its  magnitude  and  tragic 
horror,  from  a  too-easily-affected  community.  Phcebus  !  how 
much  '  genus '  can  suffer,  and  not  '  cave  I '  But  the  reader  must 
not  be  kept  longer  in  suspense  • " 

*'  Demosthenes  proper, 
"  Octoblr  1th,  '54, 

"  Mr.  L.  galerd  Clark,  esq.  : 

"  Mr.  editer — after  a  long  silens  ov  uperds  ov  8 
munths  (in  consekens  ov  bein  fir  remoov  rum  feverything  bi  a 


Mr.  Pepper's  Great  Ode.  133 

laik,  a  fishin  fur  mi  helth)  i  hev  now  returnd  hoam  to  Di.  theres 
no  resun  wi  i  shoodent,  as  i  hevent  got  nothin  fur  to  liv  fur,  now. 
mi  tale  shel  never  be  toald  to  no  boddy — much  les  to  hir.  i  hev 
only  comunicatid  the  cecrit  to  1  fren.  no  boddy  els  coodentbi  it 
fur  munny.  but  i  mene  to  kepe  a-ritin  potry  al  the  wile,  til  i 
cant  hoald  a  pen.  then  ses  i,  Goast,  go  up !  ile  welcum  deth 
cuickly,  onles  a  sertin  oald  tiren  soon  egspires,  wich  aint  prob- 
ble,  as  meen  men  never  di.  But  the  Werld  shel  thine  ime  gay 
— mi  pomes  shel  be  rote  so  cairles.  encloased  is  a  noad  to  the 
grek  Slaiv,  wich  plese  cend  to  the  comitty,*  ef  not  too  lait,  as  i 
feer.  ef  so,  plees  keep  the  saim,  as  a  me  Ment©  ov  the  moril 
Kerig  ov  Yours  fur  a  few  days  oanly,         K.  N.  Pepper. 

"p.  s.  i  doant  cair  about  the  $100  dollers.  giv  the  munny 
to  sum  yung  man  as  is  gest  marid  to  the  objeck  ov  his  chois  & 
startin  into  biznes.     wot  doo  i  wont  ov  munny  ?    ide  hk  it  per- 

aps  ef  that  oald  tiren but  i  say  no  moar.     egskews  my  emo- 

shuns.    thaym  overpowrin  &  daingerus.  k.  n.  p. 


"A  NOAD   TO   THE   GREK  SLAIV. 

"  I's  moar,  mi  Pen,  asoom  I's  moar  the  trasis 
ov  blanc  Yers :  I's  moar  spring  nt0%-  into  em. 
doant  gerk.     go  cam  &  cuiet;  but  git  on  fire 
gradily,  mi  pen,  &  giv  the  subjeck  Convulshuns  I 

*  The  "  Cosmopohtan  Art  Association  "  offered  a  prize  for  the 
best  Ode  to  the  Grreek  Slave.  Mr.  Pepper  had  a  mind  to  con- 
tend for  it. 


134  Mr.  Pepper's  Great  Ode. 

"  Statoo  !  (good  hevins  !  wers  mi  i's  ? — ime  blind !) 
STUN  PicTER  !  hail ! — ^in  consekens  ov  your  glory 
i  shel  be  compeld  to  hev  a  operashun  performd 
fur  Cat  a  rack,  immejitly.     i  thougt  i  cood  go  this  slo ; 
But  i  se  it  cant  be  dun :  youm  al  powrful : 
your  influens  is  sech,  ime  al  ov  a  trembel, 
&  fele  a  sort  ov  sicnes  a-crepin  into  mi  stomic 
slo  but  shoor — like  a  gimblit  into  a  board. 

wos  you  al  sculp  frum  1  pese  ?  say,  Perfeckshun ! — 
hevent  you  got  no  goints  maid  ov  putty,  nor  nothin  ? 
But  no  ;  i  feel  youm  perfeck  :  i  thine,  at  leest, 
that  poWers's  story  otto  be  giv  ear  to — 
wich  ses  youm  al  hac  out  ov  a  marble  stun, 
(imortel  powrs  !  wot  a  genus  fur  sculp  !) 

distingguisht  Femail !  a-standin  thayr  onto  1  leg — 
in  silens  admired  bi  hundreds,  i  supoas — 
you  ken  apreshait  the  felings  ov  her 
as  went  in  swimmin,  &  soon  aperin  I's  moar, 
discuverd  nothin  into  the  plais  ov  a 
good  soot  ov  Cloas,  as  wos  a-lyin  thayr 
But  1  short  minit  previs — supoasd  to  be  hern, 
(pardon  me,  grek,  %r  the  alooshun.) 
But  wot  need  hes  Buty,  fur  menny  artikels 
ov  aparril  ?    how  menny  ladys  you  se 
wich  sertinly  thine  Eve's  fashion  wos  the 
handyest,  but  tliay  parshelly  giv  in  to  custum, 
out  ov  the  nateral  kindnis  ov  thayr  harts ! 


Mr.  Pepper's  Great  Ode.  135 

wos  that  the  stile  wen  you  wos  animaitid  ? 
then  wot  did  you  cawl  makin  ov  a  toy  ht  ? 
frum  your  compleckshun  i  shood  thine  peraps 
you  dined  prinsiply  onto  your  natyv  Air. 
it  must  hev  ben  ov  a  soHder  maik  than 
nited  Staitsen  air,  wich  is  mity  thin  dyit 
wen  used  egscloosiv,  as  i  otto  no. 

o  Slaiv ^but  i  leve  you  to  ges  wots  hapend : 

oanly  remarkin  that  3  wekes  ive  Hvd  onto  it ; 
But  at  last  poor  ITacher  hes  cum  round  to  vittels. 

"  wot  butiful  hans — so  delekit  &  wite  I 
thats  moastly  dun  bi  activly  a-doin  nothin. 
i  no  a  yung  lady  as  hes  got  sech  hans — 
oanly  not  cuite  so  very  wite  &  teanty, 
oin  to  a  crule  Faither  as  maiks  her  were, 
her  naim  is  hanah  g.  W.     her  feet  air  larger, 
But  woodent  be  ef  her  shoos  &  stockins  wos  of. 
her  arm,  ef  anything,  is  bigern  yourn; 
&  shes  raither  better  lookin  into  the  fais. 
firther  comparrisuns  wood  be  but  ges  were, 
owin  to  the  present  inconvenyent  fashinsj 
But  no  dout  thay  wood  be  faverbel  to  hanah. 
i  no  her  figers  shorter,  likewais  her  noas ; 
But  in  them  fechers  statoos  must  be  pardond, 
fur  sculpera  hev  inoomeribel  rinkels. 
POWRS  thincs  Buty  lays  in  hite  &  length — 
But  1  looc  at  HANAH  wood  chaing  his  hul  idee. 


136  Mr.  Pepper's  Great  Ode. 

yet  hoo  wood  hev  al  Buty  ov  a  peese  ? 

Statoo  !  fur  your  stile  youm  perfeck ! 

your  looc  ov  cam  disgust  is  probbly  rite, 

altho  sum  harts  wood  gladly  se  thee  smiL 

your  air  is  forin,  sos  your  nashun  too ; 

you  air  the  verry  Picter  ov  a  grek 

in  chains,  &  no  dout  a  1st  chop  sampel. 

it  doant  tan  you  much  to  traivil,  i  se : 

youm  probbly  well  cloathed,  exsep  wen  shoad  ; 

then  your  dres  is  egstreemly  lo  in  the  nee  : 

Bein  a  vizzionery  Bloomer,  without  enny  pans- 

or  a  full  dress,  posessiv  cais  under  stood. 

"  i  must  now  bid  you  a  abrupt  adoo, 
fair  Statoo  1  fehn  al  the  distressin  simtums 
ov  a  pereodikel  atact  ov  pain  into  the  bowls. 
Marble  stun  Enteepris  1 — Fair  thee  wel  I ' 


PHRENOLOGY  OF  THE  HEAVENS. 

A     PAINTING. 


BY   MR.    PEPPER. 


ON  the  next  page  but  two,  will  be  found  an  engrav- 
ing from  a  "  Shove  Dover,"  by  Mr.  Pepper — wlio, 
like  T.  Buchanan  Kead,  is  an  artist-poet.  The  follow- 
ing extract  from  the  remarks  of  J M ,  the 

eminent  critic,  it  will  be  perceived,  even  from  the 
engraving,  are  profound  and  lucid,  as  well  as  just : 

"  This  remarkable  work  is  the  first  of  its  kind.  We  are  at  a 
loss  where  to  place  it.  We  cannot,  perhaps,  put  it  before  the 
greatest  of  the  '  Chef  d'oeuvre  Productions '  of  Landis,  the  cele- 
brated apostle  of  'High  old  Art  and  Literature,' — he  of  'the 


138  Phrenology  of  the  Heavens. 

Capitol  of  this  Commonwealth,  contiguous  to  which,  he  '  is  a 
native;'  nor  can  it  be  placed  behind  that  painting ;  for  then  it 
could  not  be  seen  at  all.     It  must  take  its  own  place." 

4c  4:  H<  :K  4:  *  H< 

"  The  chiaro-'scuro  effects,  in  this  painting,  are  very  fine :  so 
fine  that  most  unassisted  eyes  will  not  be  able  to  perceive  them. 
Mr.  Pepper's  handling  is  quite — nay,  excessively,  free ;  and  he 
works  up  his  inspirations  with — in  short,  his  brush.  His  color- 
ing cannot  be  excelled,  for  intensity  of  blue ;  while  the  general 
tone,  considering  the  subject,  is  uncommonly  moral.  Were  we 
hypercritical,  it  might  be  obvious  to  remark,  that  the  best  paint- 
ers of  celestial  scenery  represent  stars  with  five  points  instead  of 
six ;  but  of  course  it  does  not  become  a  liberal  critic  to  notice 
such  a  trifling  blemish :  the  artist  may  have  seen  stars  with 
six  points. 

"  It  is  interesting  to  note  those  Httle  inaccuracies  which  evince 
the  carelessness  of  true  genius.  Thus,  the  left  fore-leg  of  the 
bear  is  fore-shortened  too  much  by  about  the  thirty-second  of  an 
inch.  But  how  amply  is  this  oversight  atoned  for  in  the  extra- 
ordinary amount  of  intelligence  thrown  into  the /ace  of  the  bear ! 
The  tip  of  this  celestial  animal's  nose  is  full  of  meaning.  And 
the  grace  and  repose  of  his  figure — ^particularly  the  tail — chal- 
lenge the  encomium  of  every  lover  of  extremely  High  Art. 

"  The  accessories  are  well  managed ;  the  artist  has  them  under 
complete  control.  Indeed,  they  have  never  been  managed  in 
quite  the  same  way  before.  On  a  careful  inspection  of  certain 
marks,  we  cannot  resist  the  impression  that  the  picture  was  at 


Phrenology  of  the  Heavens.  139 

first  intended  as  a  mere  skiagram ;  but  that  the  suggestiveness 
of  the  subject  induced  the  artist  to  fill  it  up,  with  all  that  elabo- 
rateness of  finish  now  observable  in  it.  How  exquisitely  faith- 
ful are  the  claws  of  the  bear !    How  delicately  pencilled  are  his 

ears !" 

*  *  *  *  *  j(!  *• 

"  We  understand  that  an  engraving  of  this  admirable  pamtmg 
is  being  prepared,  and  impressions  will  be  ready  for  subscribers 
by  about  the  middle  of  September.  Artists'  proofs — with  a  gift- 
book — one  dollar.     Without  the  gift-book,  four  cents. 

The  exquisite  jokes,  in  parentheses,  were  invented  by  Mr. 
Podd — whose  spirits  went  so  high,  on  the  final  completion  of 
the  painting,  that  for  the  space  of  half  an  hour  his  gravity 
entirely  forsook  him." 


FRE    NOLLIG    OV   THE    HEVINS. 


FBOM  THE  OBIQIKAL  PIOTtTEK,  IN  THE  P08SBSBI0N  Off 


P.   PEPPER  PODD,    ESQ. 


Miiif'^' 


[Remarc]  Heer  we  hev  a  picter  ov  the  Hevins,  as  thay 
apeerd  be4  the  stars  wos  fixt  acordin  to  Act  ov  congriss :  fur 
"wich  we  caat  be  too  graitful.  Venous — al  bloody — is  seen  onto 
the  rite,  gest  a-settin — ^peraps  fur  to  hach  (wich  goak  is^pirfeckly 
arigenal) :  G-rait  Bair,  rampan,  with  his  tail  a-flyin,  is  the  prinsi- 
pal  objeck  into  thefrunt — sed  bi  Connysoors  to  hev  apecoolyerly 
sagashus  looc  out  ov  his  left  i :  Moon,  over  the  left — wich  is  a 
bad  sine ;  shood  chaing  with  Yenous.     (End  ov  the  Remarc.) 

(Desined  &  painted,  &  the  Remarc  compoased,  with  grait 
expens — espeshelly  the  arigenal  Goak — ^fur  to  be  shoad  bi  Mr. 
Winter:  wich^the  pris  he  coodent  pay: — remarkin  that  cheep 
Genus  wos  al  he  cood  afoard  to  encurrig.  n.b.  no  Solt  must 
be  put  onto  the  Bairs  tail.) 


THE    LITTLE    FRENCHMAN. 


OWI]S"G  to  tlie  continued  operation  of  those  natural 
laws  which  govern  the  motions  of  the  earth,  and 
the  impossibility  of  the  sun's  rays  penetrating  the 
bo(fc'es  of  the  planets,  it  was  night  in  Bugtown.  I 
will  conceal  nothing :  the  hour  was  eleven,  and  it  was 
dark !  for  as  yet  there  was  no  gas  in  Bugtown,  and 
the  moon  was  away  that  night,  attending  to  a  little 
business — ^in  fact,  pursuing  her  reflections  in  the 
groves  of  Persia,  where  she  has  been,  from  the  ear- 
liest ages,  afflicted  with  a  passion  for  wandering.  I 
am  not  prepared,  of  myself,  to  assert  that  it  was  very 
dark;  but  I  firmly  believe  it  was,  because  Eose 
Water,  who  had  been  standing  for  ten  minutes  on 
the  steps  of  her  father's  house,  trying  to  see  her  own 
hand,  which  she  held  before  her  face  for  that  purpose, 


142  The  Little  Frenchman. 

said  it  was ;  and  I  have  no  intention  of  disputing 
a  ladj.  An  insect — which,  in  flying  about  with 
unusual  ardor,  had  covered  itself  with  perspiration — 
happening  to  touch  the  hand  of  the  lady,  just  as  she 
had  delivered  the  opinion  ascribed  to  her,  and  light- 
ened herself  of  a  ponderous  sigh,  she  added,  in  a  tone 
of  considerable  vexation,  "  And,  I  declare,  it's  rain- 
ing. How  provoking !'"  A  sigh  followed,  compared 
with  which,  the  other  was  as  nothing,  in  point  of 
weight  and  general  dimensions — the  latter  being 
decidedly  longer,  while  at  least  as  broad  and  thick  as 
its  predecessor.     She  then  went  in. 

[It  is  probable  that  a  portion  of  my  readers  are 
surprised  that  I  do  not  lengthen  the  preceding  sen- 
tence by  the  addition  of  the  word  "lemons;"  sup- 
posing, of  course,  that  our  heroine  immediately 
engaged  in  some  unique  employment,  with  consi- 
derable energy — all  of  which  may  be  expressed  in 
that  brief  and  elegant  phrase.  No ;  she  went  in,  as 
I  said — feeling  sour  enough,  I  dare  say,  but  nothing 
near  as  acid  as  the  fruit  mentioned.  Another  intelli- 
gent and  acute  portion  of  my  friends  are,  doubtless, 
ready  to  suggest  the  substitution,  for  ''went  in,"  of 
the  phrase  "  turned  in,"  as  more  comprehensive,  and 


The  Little  Frenchman.  143 

savoring  of  probability,  at  that  hour  of  the  night.  I 
confess  I  am  not  smitten  with  a  mania  for  economy 
in  words.  In  due  time  I  should,  perhaps,  have 
alluded  to  Eose's  going  to  bed ;  though  I  doubt  if  I 
would  have  been  quite  so  minute,  in  the  description 
of  that  process,  as  Mr.  Keats,  in  his  "Eve  of  St. 
Agnes."  Let  all  readers  leave  the  narration  of  the 
story  to  me,  and  read  on  with  child-like  confidence  in 
the  excellence  of  its  management.] 

Why  had  Koee  Water  for  so  long  a  time  exposed 
herself  to  the  night  air  of  Bugtown — knowing  full 
well,  as  she  did,  that  fever-and-ague  was  prevalent  in 
that  section  ?  It  is  quite  probable  that  Eose  had  her 
own  reasons  for  it.  It  is  no  affair  of  ours.  It  may 
not  be  thought  particularly  impertinent,  however,  for 
me  to  mention  that  she  was  friendly  to  one  Count 
La  Yendre — or  "Lavender,  the  little  Frenchman," 
as  he  was  good-humoredly  termed  by  the  boys  of 
the  village — who  was  spending  the  summer  in  the 
country,  his  home  being,  since  his  exile,  in  New 
York  city.  Every  one  except  Eose  seemed  to  think 
the  count  of  no  great  account,  and  found  it  difficult 
to  account  for  her  preference. 

[I  fancy  a  sneer  of  ineffable  scorn  to  be  wreathing 


144  The  Little  Frenchman. 

the  lips  of  some  critical  readers.  Not  for  the  titled 
foreigner  do  they  feel  that  contempt.  Oh  no !  they 
already  love  the  little  Frenchman.  That  scorn  is  for 
me,  the  author.  "  A  man  who  will  pun,^^  they  say, 
in  tones  of  cutting  severity,  "  or  attempt  the  ringing 
of  changes  on  words,  merits  the  contempt  of  the 
general  reading  public,  and  the  reprehension  of  his 
friends."  All  the  same  to  him,  if  he  don't  get  it. 
Losing  sight  of  even  the  truth,  in  my  devotion  to  a 
whim,  I  shall  go  on  to  say  that — ] 

The  little  Frenchman  could  count  on  one  good 
friend,  at  least,  in  Bugtown :  one  whose  slightest  taste 
never  ran  counter  to  his  own ;  one  who  delighted  to 
hear  him  recount  his  Othello-nian  adventures — the 
account  of  which  would  often  make  her  heart  beat 
faster  than  she  could  count ;  one  who,  to  all  appear- 
ance, received  the  veracious  narrative  without  any 
hesitation  or  mental  discount :  counting  the  count  as 
honest  as  any  he  in  the  county,  or,  indeed,  the  coun- 
try— not  mentioning  the  continent,  as  unwilling  to 
countenance  that  wholesale  manner  of  statement. 
There ! 

Kose  went  in.  [Which  makes  the  third  time  I 
have  alluded  to  that  sensible  action,  and  lays  me 


The  Little  Frenchman.  145 

open  to  censure  on  the  score  of  redundancy  in  lan- 
guage. No  one  but  a  fool  would  again  repeat  the 
assertion.]  Leaving  her  to  grope  her  way  up  to  her 
room — muttering,  as  she  went,  that  the  various 
"stories"  were  "not  so  interesting  as  some  she  had 
gone  through,"  I  return  to  the  count — whom,  by  the 
way,  I  do  not  remember  to  have  left.  The  count 
was  standing — no,  I  carUt  lie :  sitting — at  his  window 
in  the  village  hotel,  at  the  same  hour  (the  reader 
will  remember — eleven — how  significant!)  and  also 
chiding,  but  in  bad  English,  the  unpropitious 
elements.  To  add  to  the  horrors  of  his  condition, 
the  wretched  little  Frenchman  was  drunk.  Like  any 
other  conquered  son  of  Gaul,  he  did  not  seem  to  be 
aware  of  his  situation,  but  conversed  with  the  in- 
habitants of  Pandemonium,  and  other  low  society,  in 
a  strain  of  energetic,  but  tipsy  volubility,  that  must 
have  disgusted  even  the  lowest  of  that  class,  and 
estranged  for  ever  the  friendship  of  the  more  intelli- 
gent devils. 

"  By  gar !  zis  is  too  bad !"  he  at  length  remarked — 
cooHng  a  little  in  both  language  and  feeling.  "  Eose 
Yattare !  she  vill  say  I  am  ze  dem  foo-00-ool !  I  vill 
go,  if  it  shall  r-r-rain  peech-fork  I"     So  spake  brave 

7 


146  The  Little  Frenchman. 

La  Yendre,  the  httle  Frenchman — adding  the  single 
expletive,  "Sacre!" 

[The  sagacious  reader  has,  doubtless,  already 
guessed — much  to  my  surprise,  and  entirely  contrary 
to  my  intention — that  our  Gallic  friend,  the  vivacious 
La  Yendre,  and  Kose  Water  had  made  some  arrange- 
ment, probably  clandestine,  to  be  consummated  that 
night:  say  running  away,  getting  married,  and 
coming  back,  repentant  and  forgiven,  after  many 
years,  with  a  coach-and-six,  six  children  and  half-a- 
dozen  servants.  "It  would  be  so  nice!"  murmurs 
some  pretty  blue-eyed  creature  in  curls  and  'teens. 
"Just  the  plot  for  a  short  novel,"  pronounces  her 
literary  and  elderly  sister.  Ge-urls,  it  shall  be  as  you 
say.  That  was  the  plan.  I  swear  to  you,  that  was 
the  plan.     Let  us  watch  its  fortunes.] 

The  solemn  tones  of  the  village  clock  tinkled  musi- 
cally and  sadly  as  they  tolled:  no — struck:  no — 
marked  with  feeling  emphasis  the  hour  of  eleven. 
The  hour-hand  gravely  pointed  to  the  Koman  charac- 
ters XL,  on  the  dial-face,  and,  in  conjunction  with  the 
more  mercurial  minute-hand,  embraced  affectionately 
the  hour  included  between  them.  Soon  the  minute- 
hand,  with  ill-timed  levity,  offered  to  bet  his  brother 


The  Little  Frenchman.  147 

that  he  would  give  him  eleven-twelfths  of  the  whole 
course  the  start,  and  overtake  him  in  less  than  an  hour 
and  a  half  "Done!"  said  the  self-conceited  senior, 
forgetting  his  dignity  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment, 
and  at  once  engaging  in  the  race.  Racing  was  no  new 
thing  to  them ;  in  fact,  they  were  old  hands  at  it. 

While  this  undignified  farce  was  acting  in  the 
steeple,  the  little  Frenchman,  all  unconscious  of  that, 
and  nearly  everything  else,  pursued  below  his  eccen- 
tric course  towards  the  dwelling  of  his  charmer. 
When  he  had  arrived  within  a  block  or  two  of  the 
house,  continuing  his  recitations  by  the  way,  the 
shocked  and  distressed  elements  could  no  longer 
restrain  their  grief,  and  wept  profusely.  Notwith- 
standing this  evidence  of  atmospheric  agony  the  pro- 
fane Gaul  continued  to  rail,  until  he  stood  beneath  the 
window  of  Rose  Water.  It  would  seem  that  he  felt 
a  little  disappointed  at  the  general  aspect  of  things  on 
his  arrival.  Though  straining  his  eyes  to  a  dangerous 
degree  of  tension,  he  had  not  been  able  to  discern  the 
rope-ladder  hanging  from  the  window  of  his  Dulcinea ; 
and  it  would  have  been  a  very  singular  discovery  if 
he  had,  considering  that  there  was  none  there.  There 
was  no  sign  of  Rose ;  no  indication  of  a  desire  on  her 


148  The  Little  Frenchman. 

part  to  change  her  quarters,  even  though  she  should 
thus  secure  the  "  eligible,  well- watered  and  every  way 
desirable  piece  of  property,  soon  to  be  sold."  The 
count  had  thought  he  had  known  what  sadness  was, 
in  days  gone  by.  Indeed,  he  had  often  feelingly 
observed  the  same  to  Rose ;  but  now  he  was  certain  he 
knew.  While  his  feelings  were  getting  ready  to  cul- 
minate in  some  affecting  speech,  the  window  above 
him  slowly  raised,  and  two  young  ladies  peered  cauti- 
ously into  the  darkness.  "  There  he  is  1 — he  has  come, 
after  all,"  whispered  Rose  to  her  companion,  as  a  flash 
of  lightning  for  a  moment  revealed  the  dripping  and 
melancholy  figure  of  the  little  Frenchman,  now  rush- 
ing to  and  fro  in  a  state  of  dismal  distress  and  un- 
healthy excitement.  Was  the  elopement,  then,  to 
take  place,  and  make  a  happy  man  of  the  count,  not- 
withstanding the  unpromising  aspect  of  affairs  ?  We 
shall  see.  -^ 

At  length,  as  the  accumulative,  blighting  unhappi- 
ness  of  his  state,  without  and  within,  came  upon  him 
with  resistless  force,  he  clasped  his  hands,  and  gave 
vent  to  his  injured  feelings. 

"By  gar!  zis  is  tr-r-riste  diffecultee!  I  shall  be 
mad  I     Rose  Yattare  I    Yous  make  dem  foo-00-ool 


The  Little  Frenchman.  149 

of  me !  It  is  not  kind !  I  shall  str-r-rike  mon  head 
on  ze  wall!  I  vill  now  r-r-run!" — which  intention 
was  hardly  called  for,  as  he  had  been  running  all  the 
while.  Nevertheless,  it  served  to  quicken  the  speed 
of  the  unhappy  Frenchman,  who  now  made  directly 
for  the  wall  as  though  he  were  charging  a  battery. 
Suddenly  he  stopped  and  clapped  both  his  hands  to 
his  stomach,  losing  at  once  both  his  color  and  anima- 
tion. The  bad  liquor,  the  excitement,  the  rain,  and 
the  melancholy  had  done  their  office.  "I  am  zee-ee- 
eek!"  whimpered  the  miserable  Httle  Frenchman. 
"  I  will  go  back  to  ze  hotel !"  He  was  too  thorough- 
ly plunged  in  distress  to  be  aware  of  the  smothered 
laugh  which  stole  down  from  Kose's  window,  and  fol- 
lowed him  merrily  a  good  distance. 

Mightily  glad  to  reach  his  destination  was  the  Count 
La  Yendre.  Shutting  his  door  on  the  world  with  its 
cares  and  troubles,  including  a  portion  of  his  share  in 
both,  the  stiU  unhappy  Graul  stood  for  a  moment  con- 
templating himself  in  the  glass.  Then,  with  a  mut- 
tered "  Sacrel"  the  little  Frenchman,  now  thoroughly 
disgusted,  rushed  to  the  bed,  threw  himself  on  it,  and 
groaned  himself  to  sleep. 


A  POEM  (AND  POET)  CUT  SHORT. 


"  One  dem*d  grind." — Mantalini. 


0  SHADE  of  Mother  G-oose  :  that  long  since  fled 
(No  one  knows  when,  exactly,)  to  the  sky : 
Bend,  pr'ythee,  bend  thy  venerable  head — 

Look  down,  good  Grhost,  if  with  but  half-an-eye, 
And  see  a  struggling  poet  rhyming  here. 
Oh  I  for  a  moment  lay  your  knitting  by 
For  work  more  fitting :  write,  make  blunders,  cry- 
Drop  but  a  line,  a  stitch — a  pitying  tear ; 
Do  anything,  to  prove  you  sympathize 
In  his  distress ;  so  will  you  hush  his  sighs, 
Warm  his  cold  heart,  inspire  his  lazy  pen — 
And  make  him  yours  devotedly.     Amen. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Methinks  a  voice,  all  thin  and  quavery,  cracked, 
Steals  down  in  whispers :  "  I  am  Mother  Goose. 


A  Poem  (and  Poet)  cut  short.        151 

Take  my  advice :  Unless  bv  Want  attacked, 

Never  again  thy  Pegasus  unloose  : 
For  I  should  now  be  Uving  on  the  earth, 

If  Fate  had  with  my  genius  made  a  truce, 

Consigned  my  well-known  Melodies  to  the  deuce. 
And  spared  those  labouring  pains  which  marlred  their  birth:" 

And  here,  a  sob  assaults  my  tender  ear. 

So  natural  and  "  old,"  I  think  it  queer 
Those  vocal  sounds  should  have  the  least  existence, 
Just  travelled,  quavering,  such  an  awful  distance. 

EPODE. 

Good  heavens  1 — can  it  be  so — is  "  Mother"  right? 

Is  "  G-oose"  aufait  in  matters  of  this  kind  ? — 
0  Matron,  Sage-ess,  Wisdom's  Shade  I — this  night 

I  bend  an  old  twig  to  your  turn  of  mind. 
The  world  should  know,  that  a  tremendous  poet 

Majestically  leaves  himself  behind — 

Himself  thus  martyrs,  whistles  down  the  wind. 
'Tis  sad  to  have  much  genius  (and  to  know  it) — 

Compelled  to  choke  it  down,  or  lose  a  life ; 

But  she  was  all  unequal  to  the  strife, — 
And  I — my  poems,  or  my  breath  resigning, 
Make  now  my  choice — and  straightway  stop  my  whining. 


A    PAUSE. 


PEEHAPS  it  is  just  as  well,  my  tender-hearted 
reader,  to  postpone  the  shock  of  Mr.  Pepper's 
harrowing  next.  Suffer  yourself  to  be  detained  a 
little  while  by  a  few  trifles. 

Try  a  crumb  from  the  Orient : — 

FABLE   FROM    THE   ARABIC. 

One  morning  the  Sun  said  to  himself:  "  This  is  the  day  I  have 
fixed  on  for  the  annihilation  of  Raschid  al  Ferez,  the  bareheaded 
despiser  of  my  power.  The  wretch  must  die !  I  have  said  it." 
He  then  began  to  travel  over  the  sandy  plain,  which  soon  was 
ready  to  fuse  with  the  extraordinary  heat.  But  what  astound- 
ing sight  has  filled  the  sun  with  wonder,  and  checked  his  blazing 
progress  across  the  heavens?  Raschid  al  Ferez  is  no  longer 
bareheaded!  "  Alas!  "  said  the  over-heated  luminary,  in  a  ter- 
rible perspiration,  "why  am  I  always  a  day  too  late?    A  friend 


A  Pause.  153 

to  my  intended  victim  has  robbed  me  of  my  prey  by  sending 
him,  from  New  York,  one  of '  Whang's  Gossamer  Hats.'  I  know 
them  I  They  are  proof  against  anything  I  can  do  in  Arabia. 
When  I  get  directly  over  the  comer  of  Broadway  and  T'other 
Street,  I  will  endeavor  to  burn  up  their  establishment."* 

Or  a  sententious  and  oracular  home-made  tit-bit: — 


A   HAPPY   EXPEDIENT. 

One  day,  when  Time  was  young,  the  Graces,  clustering  round 
him,  desired  to  know  how  long  he  was  to  exist.  Conscious  of 
his  ignorance,  but,  because  his  locks  were  already  grey,  wish- 
ing to  be  thought  wise,  he  thus  rephed : 

"  For  Man  was  I  created.  He  dies :  to  him  I  exist  no  longer." 
(This  is  very  funny.) 

Or  a  sentimental  taste : — 

,^     -  UNREST. 

Alas  1  what  strangers  we  are  to  sweet  content  I  What  trifles 
move  us !  Geometricians  tell  us  points  have  "  neither  length, 
breadth,  nor  thickness,  but  position  only."  Our  school-days 
being  over,  how  many  of  us — dwelling  in  blest  obscurity,  but 
lacking  neither  in  length,  breadth,  nor  thickness — are  ever  vainly 
sighing  to  be  points ! 

*  Picked  up  in  the  street:  supposed  to  be  intended  as  an 
advertisement 

7*  I 


154  ^  Pause. 

Or  a  narrative  and  anecdotical  morsel  :— 

AUTHENTIC  INCIDENT  IN  WASHINGTON'S 
LIFE. 

Washington  was  one  day  walking  in  his  front  yard,  when 
who  should  come  in,  unperceived,  but  La  Fayette.  Bursting 
with  the  humor  of  his  idea,  the  Marquis  stole  up  to  the  General 
and  slapping  him  on  the  back,  roared  out:  "  Wash  1  my  old  boy 
— ^how  are  you?"  ''Tol'ble,  Mac,"  said  Washington,  with  that 
perfect  self-possession  which  he  always  exhibited, — "  I  feel — but 
stop  :  I  smell  dinner !  Wait  here  a  few  minutes,  and  I'll  fetch 
you  out  a  bite." 

Or  a  biograpLical  slice : — 

TORRICELLI.      - 

This  was  the  Italian  gentleman  who  discovered  the  vacuum. 
While  engaged  in  a  busthng  search  for  it,  he  originated  a  style  of 
answer  to  impertinent  inquiries,  that  has  since  become  common. 
His  inquisitive  uncle  observed  the  flurry  he  was  in,  and  cried : 
"What  are  you  looking  for,  Torry?"  '■''Oh.,  nothing, ^^  was  the 
reply, — which  both  incensed  and  silenced  the  old  man.  Torri- 
ceUi,  being  a  man  of  genius,  was  modest,  and  did  not  make  much 
of  his  discovery ;  but  modern  scientific  men  affect  to  see  a  good 
deal  in  it.  Nature  is  said  to  abhor  a  vacuum :  but  it  is  thought 
she  resembles  many  other  solid  old  women,  who  are  remarkable 
for  making  a  prodigious  fuss  about  nothing  at  all. 

Or  a  jojjose  sip  or  two : — 


A  Pause.  155 

A  HEAVY  JOKE. 

(expected  to  go  the  rounds.) 

The  most  amusing  geological  curiosity  is  a  "  G-rin'  stone !  " 

ANOTHER. 

The  most  emblematical  one  (significant  of  a  stupid  cow-fight) 
is  the  greenish  mineral ''  Hornblende." 

CONUNDRUM. 

Why  is  this  book  like  the  Eussians  at  Sebastopol  ? 
Because  it  is  pretty  well  Pepper-ed. 

Or  an  epigrammatic  final  puff: — 

JENNY   LIND's   LAST   NOTE. 

A-sighing  in  her  garden,  one  damp  morning, 
She  looked  where  Groldy  in  the  window  sat — 
Who,  dozing  there,  that  moment  dropped  his  hat. 
She  picked  it  up,  the  act  with  song  adorning. 
But  stopped,  in  both, — that  instant  having  warning 
Her  sighs  would  hardly  let  her  reach  A  flat. 

"  But,  soft :  behold  I  "  A  Tribute  to  Genus.  Thus 
Clark,  with  energy : 

''  Mr.  U.  C.  Skippers  sends  us  '  A  Dress  to  K.N.  Pepper,'  from 
which  we  segregate  the  following.  But,  Mr.  Skippers,  Pepper 
can't  be  imitated — ^he  can  only  be  approached  at  a  very  great 
distance : " 


156 


A  Pause. 


"  Great  Pepper  I  thou  star  ov  1st  magnitude 
In  the  Utterrary  cistern,  receve  mi  offerinks 
In  yur  own  stile  ov  blanc  vers  witch  dont 
Yu  nevr  fursak.     Youm  eeny  about  the  fust 
Poik  livin  witch  kums  up  2  mi  idees. 
Wat  a  free  an  unparalel  han  yu  strik  the 
Kords  with,  dont  yu  ?    Youm  grat  1  youm  punkins  1 
****** 

Yu  ken  sale  on,  grat  barb,  Hke  the  elektrik  spare 

"Witch  darts  the  hevinks  thru  an  rips  the  klowds 

Considrable,  an  sumtimes  strikes  barns ; 

Jes  so  youl  rip  the  klowds  of  ignerens  &  erer. 

Yu  ken  beet  eny  Hvin  peek  &  not  |  tri 

He  bet,  with  yur  rite  han  tide  behin  ye." 


Si 


MR.  PEPPER  WALKS  IN  THE  "VAL- 
LEY  OF  SHADOWS." 


THEKE  is  much,  in  Civil  War,  to  justify  our  fears 
wlien  threatened  with  it:  much,  very  much,  in 
Toothache.  But  when  a  man,  and  that  man  a  poet : 
a  man  of  imagination,  feeling,  sympathy,  affection : 
has  reasoned  with  himself,  and  come  to  the  conclusion 
that  Suicide  is  the  only  thing  that  can  make  existence 
supportable,  we  infer  at  once,  that  man  has  suffered^ 
and  very  likely  been  unable  to  sleep  much  for  several 
nights.     We  know  it  I 

Keader  I  fancy  yourself  possessed  of  the  organiza- 
tion of  a  Pepper.  It  is  hard  to  do  it,  but — ^fancy  it. 
Then,  in  imagination,  overwhelm  your  gentle  spirit 
with  misfortune,  neglect,  enmity,  disappointment, 
and  the  hereditary  misery  of  Genius :  go  on, — ^goad- 


158     Walks  in  the  Valley  of  Shadows. 

ing  yourself  to  that  pitch  of  madness  that  life  becomes 
"  a  burthen  and  a  curse :"  keep  up  this  unpleasant 
"posture  of  affairs"  a  few  days  or  weeks: — then  cal- 
culate yourself  up,  and  see  what  you  come  to.  You 
will  think  (and  Skippers  will  agree)  that  it  is  "  not 
exactly  the  cheese"  to  be  in,  a  great  while.  You  may 
have  desperate  thoughts  of — ^but  no ;  even  then,  com- 
pared with  Peppee,  you  would  be  happy.  For  he 
must  leave  the  angelic  Hannah  Jane.  The  "rub" 
was  to  rub  himself  out  of  her  society;  and  not  to 
yield  up  beefsteak  and  the  light  of  day.  That  part 
cannot  be  imagined. 

The  annexed  correspondence,  when  it  appeared  in 
the  Knickerbocker  Magazine,  spread  (very  evenly)  a 
gloom  over  the  continent  of  North  America,  from 
the  Isthmus  of  Darien  to  82°  50' ;  which  is  giving 
Melancholy  the  largest  latitude  that  can  be  afforded 
in  the  present  state  of  our  geographical  knowledge : 

"  Demosthenes  Four-Corners,  Jan.  10, 1866. 

"Mr.  Clark:  Editor: 

"  Sir  :  After  reading  the  inclosed  letter  which  I  have  just  had 
the  melancholy  Pleasure  of  receiving  from  our  mutual  friend  Mr. 
K.  N.  Pepper,  Esq.,  you  will  of  course  lay  aside  all  other  Con- 
siderations and  weep  with  me.     Sir :  Tears  are  good.    He  was 


Walks  in  the  Valley  of  Shadows.        159 

worth  rivers  of  them,  or,  if  I  am  extravagant,  creeks.  I  say 
was,  for  I  consider  him  a  Eehct.  He  was,  but  is  not.  He  is 
dead  to  the  world,  although  he  may  feel  alive.  He  is  a  singular 
instance  of  the  experimentwm  Crucis.  It  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  I  regret  his  absence.  He  has  left  a  void  which  I  fear  Aches. 
My  children  were  wont  to  greet  him  playfully,  and  received 
Brazihan  nuts  at  intervals.  The  three-cornered  productions  of 
South  America  may  be  supplied,  but  where  is  the  Benefactor  ? 
Perhaps  you  do  not  wonder  that  I  am  weeping ;  perhaps  you 
do  not  wonder  that  four  children  and  an  angelic  Woman  have 
streaks  of  dirt  on  their  cheeks.  You  can  feel  for  them.  You 
have  been  in  the  same  painful  situation. 

"  But  a  flood  of  emotion  appears  to  be  rising.  I  must  close 
before  I  am  carried  away. 

"  With  consideration :  Sir :  Yours, 

"  P.  Pepper  Podd. 

"  P.  S.  As  the  Transaction  will  be  unknown  to  Mr.  Pepper,  I 
will  send  you  Part  First  of  the  Great  Pome  as  soon  as  I  receive 
it  from  him.  p.  p.  p." 

"'Deer  Feller: 

"<<^ive  fled,  fal  to  were  a-makin  up  your  mind  as  soon  as  you 
reed  this,  &  resine  yourself  to  the  idee,  i  no  it  will  hert  your 
fehngs,  but  it  wil  soon  be  over.  Pepper  is  a-goin  to  kil  hisself. 
His  fren  Podd  wont  never,  never  be  a  witnes  ov  his  ageny,  & 
ketch  his  last  breth.  -His  axcents  must  be  waisted  onto  the 
desert  air,  &;  his  i's  wil  never  be  cuverd  with  smal  coins,  o  the 
hapines  ov  a-sayin  Fairwel  to  Wo,  &  a-lookin  for'ids  to 


l6o       Walks  in  the  Valley  of  Shadows. 

"  '  A  good  time  a-comin,  Boys,  onto  the  utlier  side  ov  Gordon  1' 

But  ive  got  a  grait  Were  to  finish — wich  wont  be  under  severil 
weeks  (the  saim  as  i  aloodid  to  last  summer  wen  i  felt  so  gay  & 
hapy).  i  am  a-goin  to  dedecait  it  to  you  into  2  parts,  the  1st  i 
wil  send  soon,  you  air  to  kepe  it  al  til  you  no  i  have  deseized 
miself:  after  wich  event  you  may  egsersize  your  plesyour. 
amungst  mi  efex  is  severil  smal  pomes  as  i  throo  off  bi  od  spels. 
if  you  ever  colect  mi  wercs,  they  air  to  go  in.  Thers  no  use  a- 
tryin  to  find  me.  ime  invizzibel  to  the  hewman  Speshy ;  ime 
effectooaily  conseled  by  nothin. 

"  *  ef  i  doant  git  time  to  rite  to  you  I's  moar  be4  i  'shovil  up 
this  mortel  coal'  (frum  Shaik.)  talk  this  fur  the  last.  Podd,  i 
fele  distres.    i  cant  rite.     Fairwel. 

"  '  frum  your  suferin  but  soon  releved  fren. 

"'KKPeppeb.'" 


LAGER  BIER  LYRIC. 


TAKEN  FROM  THE  LIPS  OF  AN  IMPORTED  COCKNEY. 


Sense  and  reason  show  the  door. 


Call  for  my  bier,  and  point  me  to  the  dust. 

Night  Thoughts, 
LovEL.  How  much.  Sir,  may  a  man  with  safety  drink ; 
John.  Sir,  three  half  pints  a  day  is  reasonable ; 
I  care  not  if  you  never  exceed  that  quantity. 

y   ,,:,      /  Lamb's  John  Woodvil-. 


YEN  Hingland  vos  my  dwelling-place,  an'  "boots's"  vos  my 
station,  _.        t 

I  thought  our  hale  an*  porter  vos  complete  in  hopperation ; 
And  not  a  Scotchman  come  to  us  but  vos  ableeged  to  hown, 
That  vos  the  joUiest  juice  o'  malt  vich  'e  'ad  hever  known — 
The  jolliest  hever  known. 


i62  Lager  Bier  Lyric. 

I  couldn't  think  o'  Halbion  without  a  tear  o'  pride ; 
An'  ven  the  day  vos  finished,  with  my  pewter  by  my  side, 
In  'appiness  I'd  smoke  my  pipe,  a  stoppink  for  to  quaff 
My  liquor,  vether  it  vos  porter,  hale,  or  'alf-an'-'alf — 
Or  jolly 'alf-an'-'alf. 

And  ven  I  vos  aboard  the  ship,  a-goink  for  to  leave 
My  native  land  so  fur  avay,  I  'isted  of  my  sleeve. 
An'  finding  of  it  vet  with  tears,  I  vent  atween  the  decks, 
A-feeUn'  wery  mis'able  without  my  Double  X — 
My  jolly  Double  X. 

But  ven  I'd  j'ined  the  stars  and  stripes,  and  dropped  my  hac- 

cent  too, 
I  found  a  German  custom  'ere,  as  vos  a  Httle  new ; 
So  now  I  takes  my  Lager  Bier  vith  all  the  other  fellers, 
And  finds  it  hev'ry  block  or  two  in  all  the  hoyster  cellars — 
The  jolly  hoyster  cellars. 

They  keeps  this  precious  "  Lager  "  in  the  joUiest  little  kegs  I 
And  all  the  more  you  drinks  of  it  the  more  you  keeps  your 

pegs; 
Vun  man  'ad  drunk  five  gallons,  and  vos  takin'  of  another, 
Ven,  feelin'  werry  generous,  he  give  it  to  his  brother — 
His  dry  and  jolly  brother. 

The  Germans  thinks  the  vorld  of  it,  and  veil  the  fellers  may, 
For  it  is  meat  an'  drink  to  'em,  and  bed  and  clothes,  they  say 


Lager  Bier  Lyric.  163 

And  every  child  has  Lager,  too,  it's  fed  to  ev'ry  babby- 
Por  givin'  of  'em  milk  would  be  to  treat  'em  rayther  shabby — 
Too  jolly  mean  and  shabby. 

The  papers  they'm  hall  full  of  it,  heach  jolly  writer  too ; 
And  many  says  hif  you  should  give  the  inwentor  vot's  his  due, 
You'd  go  and  make  a  saint  of  him — a  sort  of  Dutch  re-Peter, 
To  tell  vot  time  our  hale  give  in  to  somethink  rayther  better — ■ 
The  Lager,  vich  is  better. 

So,  'ere's  my  jolly  Germans,  vith  their  jolly  yeUow  'air ; 
My  spry  and  vitty  Germans,  hall  so  'appy  and  so  fair ; 
And  'ere's  the  'uman  Blessing  as  ve  prinsiply  'old  dear : 
The  jolly,  jolly  German,  as  inwented  Lager  Bier — 
The  jolly  Lager  Bier. 


ON    THE   CLAM. 


OTHOU  queer  creature — tliou  mixture  of  meat 
5  and  drink,  and  miracle  of  oddity ;  tliou  that  art 
neifher  "  animal,  vegetable,  nor  mineral :"  in  a  word, 
Bivalve  ! — look  up,  and  behold  thy  champion ! 

It  was  well  thus  to  commence  with  an  apostrophe 
to  the  genus.  Let  me  now  address  myself  to  the 
sjpecies. 

Ineffable  Clam ! — ^But  hold  !  what  noise  was  that  ? 
Why  this  fearM  tension  ?  Startled  Clam,  allay  your 
fears ;  for  here  no  sacrificial  knife  is  thirsting  for 
your  vitals.  The  mouth  may  "  water,"  the  inner 
man  may  "yearn" — but  shall  they  be  satisfied? 
The  fatal  steel  is  far,  indeed,  from  these  bloodless 
haunts;  so  are  the  "pepper  and  vinegar."    In  the 


On  the  Clam.  165 

liglit  of  these  encouraging  facts,  dear  Clam,  dismiss 
your  agitation;  silence  your  "?,"  and  be  ca(Qm. 
What !  harm  thee,  dear  Clam,  after  this  brief  and 
interesting  acquaintance?  Eather  than  see  thee  in- 
jured, I  would  see  dozens,  yea,  bushels  of  oysters 
swallowed,  and  feel  no  pity.  Let  us  be  friends,  then ; 
we  are  friends.  There !  I  knew  you  would  be  open 
and  frank  with  me.  Now  please  be  quiet  till  I — • 
Shut  again  I  "  Still  suspicious."  Too-sensitive 
Clam.  r     ^  r  \ 

But  am  I  doing  justice,  either  to  the  character  of 
the  Clam  or  of  my  own  sentiments,  by  this  untimely 
levity?  Far  from  it;  all  Clam-dom  shall  bear  me 
witness.  ;^      ; 

It  is  impossible  to  contemplate  these  interesting 
objects  without  emotion — a  watering  of  the  eyes,  and 
mouth.  The  genus  Bivalve  has  many  varieties,  but 
in  none  other  of  these  can  we  feel  a  tithe  of  the 
melancholy  interest  that  attaches  to  the  Clam. 
Spurned  by  his  aristocratic  relative,  the  oyster,  and 
treated  by  humans  with  comparative  indifference 
when  both  are  subjects  of  contemplation,  the  Clam, 
by  nature  sensitive,  feels  his  degradation  deeply; 
and,  although  conscious  of  his  many  and  decided 


l66  On  the  Clam. 

merits,  submits  meekly  to  be  misunderstood  and 
undervalued,  and  even  to  bave  bis  modesty  mistaken 
for  an  ignorant  and  stupid  acquiescence.  Injured 
bivalve  I  Thy  delicate  organization  must  needs 
suffer  many  rude  shocks  during  thy  brief  but 
troubled  existence.  While  thy  mental  sufferings  are 
of  a  character  and  intensity  known  only  to  Clams, 
thy  body,  after  enduring  the  buffetings  of  many  a 
rude  wave,  and  the  jealous  attacks  of  the  injurious 
oyster,  is  almost  certain  to  undergo  violent  torture 
and  a  cruel  death  at  the  hands  of  the  genus 
''homo." 

Inoffensive  and  long-suffering  creature!  Is  he 
responsible  for  the  flavor  of  his  flesh  ?  we  indignantly 
ask ;  must  his  amiable  disposition  change  ?  Must  he 
become  proud  and  haughty  like  his  cousin,  the 
oyster  ?  Must  he  sink  his  native  dignity  of  charac- 
ter, and  herd  with  his  fellows,  in  schools,  from  a 
cowardly  idea  of  safety  ?  Must  he  leave  his  modesty 
and  the  mud  together?  The  meanest  and  most 
pusillanimous  Clam  in  existence  would  spurn  the 
idea  with  an  indignation  approaching  to  anger^  if 
Clams  are  capable  of  so  gross  a  feeling.  No ;  thanks 
to  the  native  independence  of  his  race,  each  Clam  is 


On  the  Clam.  167 

to  himself  a  king,  and  to  his  foes  an  armed  republic ! 
To  an  equal  he  never  yields ;  to  a  proven  superior  he 
sabmits  with  a  graceful  dignity. 

In  times  of  peace  the  Clam  is  a  philosopher ;  and, 
as  far  as  possible,  passes  his  even,  quiet,  and  peaceful 
life  in  lofty  meditation  and  the  cultivation  of  the 
graces.  How  rational,  how  pleasing  a  life  is  this  I 
Alas!  that  it  should  be  perpetually  disturbed  by 
traditions  of  a  ruthless  foe  in  the  upper  world !  Ah  I 
could  these  prove  but  airy  visions  whose  fabric  were 
baseless  !  Alas !  that  dread  experience  proves  them 
but  too  true ! — A  dire  calamity  cuts  short  the  medita- 
tions of  genius.  Into  those  classic  haunts  the  rake 
descends;  and  the  peaceful  philosopher,  feeling  that 
resistance  were  worse  than  useless,  drops  a  silent 
tear — which,  were  he  an  oyster,  would  turn  to  a 
pearl — and  sighing  a  tender  farewell  to  his  native 
mud,  with  Stoical  firmness  rises  to  untried  scenes  in 
another  element.  These  "  untried  scenes  "  are  gene- 
rally of  a  very  harrowing  description,  and  need  not 
be  enlarged  upon — the  single  word  hnife  suggesting 
as  much  horror  as  a  kind-hearted  person  would  care 
to  have  expressed  in  words.    Even  when  he  escapes 


i68  On  the  Clam. 

this  almost  inevitable  fate,  it  is  only  to  die  a  more 
lingering  and  cruel  death  from  exposure  and  neglect ; 
in  fact,  he  pines  away. 

How  melancholy,  then,  is  the  compliment  to 
human  nature  when  we  say,  "  As  happy  as  a  Clam  I" 
Happy!  He  is  never  happy,  even  at  "high-tide." 
Even  upon  his  calmest  reveries  will  intrude  the 
painful  thought,  the  fatal  certainty,  of  final  separation 
from  all  he  holds  most  dear.  Ha'ppy !  When  a 
man  is  happy  he  mingles  with  his  fellow  men.  But 
when  he  is  wretched,  does  he  not  brood  in  silence 
over  his  woes,  and  cultivate  retirement  as  his  only 
solace  ?  Tis  thus,  ah !  yes — thus  with  the  unhappy 
Clam  !  "  Wrapped  in  the  solitude  of  hi^  own  origi- 
nality," and  giving  his  genius  play,  he  may  for  awhile 
forget  his  woes;  so  do  disconsolate  mortals.  But 
happy !  Kame  it  not,  even  in  a  jest.  Let  us  not 
wantonly  trifle  with  feelings  doubtless  more  keen  and 
sensitive  than  our  own. 

There  is  hope  that  for  the  Clam  a  brighter  day  is 
dawning.  Already  a  sense  of  justice  inclines  the 
lover  of  bivalves  to  victimize  the  callous  oyster 
rather  than  his  tender  cousin.     The  oyster  is  gay 


On  the  Clam.  169 

because  he  has  no  fine  feelings.  He  looks  down 
■upon  the  modest  Clam,  who  does  not  care  to  enter 
his  circle,  and  while  rightly  judging  his  thoughtful 
connexion  unfitted  for  hollow  amusement,  he  affects 
to  despise  while  iie  really  envies  him.  The  oyster  is 
light  and  trifling ;  the  Clam,  sohd  and  practical.  The 
latter  may  improve  with  time ;  the  former  must  retro- 
grade. If  we  must  choose,  then,  let  our  cry  be, 
"Death  to  the  oyster  r 

The  question  has  been  asked:  "Do  oysters  ever 
fall  in  love?"  I  must  answer,  rarely,  ifeYex]  Clams, 
always.  The  ordinary  oyster  is  incapable  of  the 
sentiment.  There  can  be  no  more  melancholy  subject 
for  contemplation  than  that  of  a  Clam  that  is  the 
victim  of  hopeless  love.  What  could  sooner  check 
the  violence  of  mirth,  and  subdue  us  to  a  state  of 
trembling  commiseration,  than  the  thought  of  a 
Clam  in  tears?  But  there,  I  touch  a  too  tender  chord. 
In  the  ardor  of  defence  I  have  gone  too  far. 

If,  in  the  absence  of  oysters,  we  are  ever  reduced 
to  the  melancholy  necessity  of  dining  off  Clams,  let 
us  treat  them  gently  :  disengaging  them  quickly  from 
the  shell,  and,  without  mangling,  effecting  an  instant 

8       ^ 


lyo 


On  the  Clam. 


deglutition.  Then  let  us  invoke  the  Discontented 
Shade,  and  humbly  ask  forgiveness :  pleading  a  dire 
necessity,  and  engaging  to  so  regulate  our  taste  for 
bivalves,  and  confirm  our  discrimination  of  the 
species,  that  we  may  come  to  look  ijpon  the  Clam  as 
sacred. 


MR.  PEPPER'S  EIGHTH  UPHEAVING. 


READER,  liow  gladly  would  I  spare  tliee  every 
tear  thou  must  shed  over  the  woes  of  Pepper  ! 
But  the  stern  duty  of  the  faithful  chronicler  must  be 
done.     Read  Mr.  Podd's  affecting  note : 

DemostJienes  Four  Com&ra^  March  12, 1855. 
"  Mr.  Clark  :  Editor  : 

"  Sir :  The  Eepository  of  the  most  wonderful  Poem  of  modern 
times  has  the  pleasure  of  transmitting  it  to  you.  It  came  last 
night,  enveloped  in  Mystery.  If  that  is  too  poetical  an  expres- 
sion, allow  me  to  substitute  Brown  Paper — which  appeared  to 
have  been  taken  from  a  package  of  candles. 

"  This  will  justify  the  expression.  It  is  significant.  No  note 
or  direction — explanation.  Again  significant.  His  name  signed 
in  his  own  Blood,  which  Skepticism  would  call  red  ink.  Alas  1 
significant !  A  faint  but  perceptive  odor  of  Lanterns.  Signifi- 
cant! 


172      Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving. 

"  Is  it  not  wonderful  ?  Was  he  ever  equalled  in  Pathos  by- 
even  Ancient  Authors — as,  for  instance,  Gtulliver  ?  (And  be- 
tween ourselves,  Sir,  were  the  Poems  of  Socrates  so  remarkable 
as  to  forbid  the  rising  Impulse  to  honor  the  Descriptive  powers 
of  Pepper  ?)  Sir,  in  Sickness  he  is  G-reat.  All  of  his  Poems 
show  it.  He  never  alludes  to  sickness  without  affecting  me  to 
tears :  in  fact,  I  often  feel  sick  myself.  You  will  not  fail  to  notice 
his  great  improvement  in  Penmanship.  I  think  he  has  Prac- 
tised. I  know  he  has.  If  he  did  not  spurn  such  things  he  would 
always  speU  as  well  as  he  writes.  But  what  part  of  Genius  is 
orthography  ? 

"  If  he  has  gone — oh !  if  he  has  ! — and  the  thought  is  Mad- 
ness— or  at  least  unpleasant — ^let  us  be  thankful  that  his  Great 
Work  is  finished.  It  Lives !  And  Posterity  wiU  not  (I  am  con- 
fident) willingly  allow  it  to  Decease ! 

"From  a  surcharged  heart. 

"  Yours,  P.  PEPPER  PODD." 

WEELBARER. 
INTO  2  parts:    part  the  1th. 

DBDEOATT  TO  P.  PEPPEE  PODD  BI  THE  AUTHEE  ME.  K.  N.  PEPPEK.  ESQ. 

Not  that  ime  in  eny  thing  ov  a  hurry,  o  muse, 
(its  cumfertin  to  no  youv  got  a  muse,) 
Wood  i  adress  Thee  on  the  subjeck  ov 
A  large  Pome.     For  varis  is  the  oportoonitys 
ive  giv  Thee  to  wock  up  to  the  Captins  ofis 
&  their  to  settel  or  maik  your  frend  a  nofer ; 


Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving.       173 

But  you  hev  slited  al  mi  Overtoors. 

o  is  my  preshus  muse  a-goin  to  leev 

&  finelly  be  no  moar  herd  ov  enywers  ? 

Ken  nothin  worm  her  (at  present)  coald  shoalder  ? 

Eeturn  &  smile  on  Pepper,  0  his  muse  I 

Eemember  hees  desolved  al  pardnership 

With  evry  thing,  &  is  a  onhapy  Berd 

as  thincs  ov  flyin  oanly  a  few  days  longer. 

cum  &  help  smooth  his  delekit  wite  ploomig, 

&  teech  his  poor  vols  oanly  1  moar  song : 

So  then  he'll  go  in  pese,  &  you  may  find 

consolashun  in  funerls  &  sech. 

(Now  hevin  be  praisd — ^mi  muse  she  is  a-comin.) 

Go  4th  &  se  the  Yelow  Berd  so  hapy  I 
G-o  witnes  Blu-Gay,  a-spoartin  in  the  son  I 
A.  se  the  Ant  a-piHn  up  the  dert 
sereen  &  smilin,  Ukewais  industris. 
Behoald  the  Elefant,  a-floppin  ov  his  eers, 
Mindles  ov  Driver  wot  pecs  onto  his  hed. 
Sech  wos  Abner.    woshemoar?    he  wos. 
His  Faither  followd  chopin,  &  his  Grand 
Muther  wos  religis.     His  oan  muther 
onfortinetly  dide  from  the  effecks  ov  Sassig. 
as  she  wos  plus  wen  she  thus  did  di, 
she  tooc  her  oanly  son  &  frely  sed : 


174      Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving. 

"  Abner,  your  muther  is  egspected  up, 
&  reely  cant  stay  &  talk  of  her  things. 
Abnek,  mi  preshus — ^youm  a  oanly  son, 
&  ov  coars  your  bruthers  aint  noomeris. 
Wot  i  say  you  ken  at  last  depend  on. 
mi  prinsipel  last  werds  is,  Never  Cus. 
Your  Faither,  Abner,  never  did  but  I's, 
&  he  wos  sic  fur  uperds  ov  2  vi^ekes." 

so  Abner  cuicly  swoar  he  woodent  cus, 
&  then  she  looct  at  him  &  the  oald  man : 
a-regrettin  as  the  Sassig  wos  so  harty : 
&  a-sayin  Grood  Bi,  in  a  febel  vois, 
Wos  a-travelin  Hoamerds  in  about  1  minnit. 

"  Abner,  shes  gon !"  the  oald  man  then  remarct, 
Bi  way  ov  comfortin  his  wepin  son : 

"so  she  is,  Faither,"  the  yung  man  repHed; 

"she  wos,  a  goodun,  Abner,"  thenhesed; 

"so  she  wos,  Faither,"  the  son  sed  agin : 
&  then  the  oald  man  fel  I's  moar  to  chopin. 

Abner  gest  then  hed  tooc  a  gob  ov  weelin 
Dert  frum  a  seller  as  a  man  wos  digin. 
Being  wel  paid,  &  very  stout  hisself, 
He  dident  loos  no  time  in  bein  onhappy. 
He  felt  gest  hke  sum  hefty  Berd  a-flyin, 
or  wel-grode  Ant  a-bizzyin  ov  itself; 
Hede  sing  &  wissel  al  the  hv  long  day, 


Mr. 'Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving.      175 

&  oanly  stop  fur  vittels  &  terbacker, 

or  at  a  Pig  to  gerc  a  stun  so  playful. 

o  Hapines !  wot  maid  Thee  up  &  leve  ? 

o  Fait  I  wy  wos  you  so  fixt  that  you  coodent 

Help  a  I's  deservin  yung  man  cald  Abner? 

Alas !  sech  is  Hewman  Nater,  i  feer. 

Wen  maid  to  go  rite,  wi  shood  it  be  pervers  ? 

As  wi  shood  Abner  hev  spile-t  the  pirrymid 

ov  Blis  bi  a-settin  ov  it  onto  the  cmal  end  ? 

But  so  he  did,  in  an  onfortinet  moment, — 

As  in  the  next  Part  we  shel  presently  sho. 

PART    THE   2th. 

0  MUSE,  pervide  a  hankercher  &  weep  I 
also,  peraps  it  wil  be  rite  to  refews 
vittels  &  drinc  as  long  as  you  ken  stan  it. 
Weer  a-comin  to  the  dare  side  ov  the  picter, 
Wair  WO  is  roat  in  blac  al  round  the  fraim. 
Be  cairful,  muse,  in  a-roalin  up  the  kertin, 
as  it  is  maid  ov  Craip,  &  is  cuite  esy  toar. 

o  hev  you  seen  the  fond  maternel  Hen, 
With  al  ov  her  egs  cmashed  bi  a  roothles  Fo  ? 
Hev  you  discuverd  Egel,  a-cumin  down 
on  wings  ov  Nite,  becos  hers  wos  shot 
of  bi  a  shot-gun  ?  &  the  astonished  Dog 
Looe  round  with  indignashun  at  his  tale 


176      Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving. 

severd  bi  crule  Boy  be4:  his  i's  ? 
Wot  Disapointment  fur  the  helples  Dog ! 
Wot  straing  Dissatisfacshun  fur  the  Egel  1 
Wot  Wunder  fur  the  long  secloodid  Hen  I 
Al  these  hev  felt  the  inflooens  ov  a  chaing. 
(e-speshelly  the  onfortinet  ca9  Dog.) 
Hen  wos  I's  hapy — ^Egel  wos — Dog  wos : 
Wair  air  thay  now  ?  at  present  Chaingd  &  gon  1 

Abner  wos  a-weelin.    as  a  Berd  wos  Abner  ; 
(FeeUn,  not  weeUn — as  a  Berd  doant  weel ;) 
oft  a-playin  ov  his  oald  gaim  with  the  Pigs, 
&  a-wissehn  cairles,  wen  he  dident  sing, 
or  a-thinkin  ov  Buty  as  wos  fur  away. 
But  al  to  I's  the  hefty  'barer  dropt, 
fur  Abner  felt  a  tiresum  fit  cum  on. 
Wos  Abner  huffy  ?  ime  afeerd  he  wos, 
Becos  the  fit  wos  sudent,  onbenoanst-like. 
He  set  doun  onto  the  'barer  with  a  gerk, 
&  in  a  ninstan  keched  onto  a  nail 
«&  toar  his  pans  a  gash  wich  say  3  inches. 

Wos  thay  a  Nevil  Spirit  a-hangin  round 
About  that  time,  with  nothin  fur  to  do  ? 
Wos  this  the  Evil  Our  ?    Wos  Perteckshun 
G-on  frum  mortels  fur  about  ^  minit  ? 
no  matter,  now,  wot  wos  gon :  Abner  Cussed  I 


Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving.      177 

there  wos  comoshun  amungst  things  direcly : 

the  Hevins  shoad  simtoms  ov  a-turnin  blac : 

the  winds  wos  evidently  a-prepairing  fur  to  houl : 

erth  giv  a  oder  Hke  rotten  pertaters  ; 

&  wot  wos  wunderful — Weelbarer  Gtroand  I 

Evry  thing  seemd  to  be  a-waitin  fur  sumthing. 
About  that  time,  it  seems,  sumthing  cum : 
Weelbarer  Spoak  I     (Bi  the  way,  Abner 
Wos  a-feUn  dredful,  as  you  mite  supoas, 
&  altho  he  wonted  to  git  up,  he  coodent.) 
"Abner!"  sed  the  stern  Weelbarer,  "  Abner  [ 
Youm  aweer  as  youv  ben  a-Cussin,  Abner  : 
You  swoar  to  your  oald  mother  how  you  woodent, 
&  now  you'U  see  L,  Abner,  perty  cuic." 
so  then  it  riz  &  pitched  him  of  ov  the  trac : 
&  the  Hevins,  as  hed  ben  kindly  a-waitin, 
Dide  blac  imejitly,  &  the  winds  roard 
cuite  s^vig  fur  sech  short  notis.     Eaither  displeesd 
With  the  aspec  things  wos  a-wairin  jes  then, 
He  keched  his  breth,  &  put  fur  sumers  els. 


But  Egsersize  ov  runnin  spiles  the  cistim, 
onles  you  feel  Hke  a-goin.     So,  as  these 
onpleasant  sercumstansis  follered  Abner, 
He  dident  engoy  the  goak.     He  felt  insultid ; 
His  fehngs  hed  ben  teched  with  a  rood  hand : 
Besides,  it  hert  wair  he  struc  frum  the  'barer, 
8* 


178       Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving. 

&  he  wosent  wel  hisself.    He  hed  setteld 

into  a  nesy  trot  fur  severil  mild, 

a-beginnin  fur  to  hoap  fur  plesenter  wether ; 

Wen  ScuEKE  1  Scueke  !  Scueke  !  he  hears  a  sound  behind 

Like  a  immens  Weelbarer  a-comin  awful  I 


o  Abner,  fli  I  &  to  your  speed  ad  wings !  (frum  Milton.) 
No  need  to  tel  him,  fur  the  cus  did  fli. 
He  cairn  soon  to  a  Kiver,  (bangs  wos  hi,) 
&  a-thinkin  it  mite  be  Gordon,  wos  afeerd. 

a  HtteVsercumstans  confermed  his  suspishins. 
He  heerd  the  Scueke,  &  a  awful  rumbHn  sound, 
&  afoar  bein  cuite  prepaired,  wos  buct  in. 

this  wos  a  noo  cos  for  Dissatisfacshun ; 
So  he  swum  acros  the  rifs  cuite  angry-like, 
But  got  out  so  refresht  that  he  maid  2:40 
With  a  ese  unparaleld,  considerin 
the  straingness  ov  the  kedentry.     (al  this  wile 
the  furis  wind  kep  up  1  awful  shrik, 
a-displayin  "abilhty  ov  no  common  order  ; 
Darcnes  wos  a-perspirin  ov  blac  inc ; 
&  the  elemens  generally  wos  onfrenly.) 

Soon  anuther  unplesent  thing  cum  up. 
Abner  smelt  fire  !  &  a-lookin  al  around 
Saw  into  the  frunt  (gest  rescuin  ov  hisself,) 
a  HOAL I     it  smoakd  sum,  &  hed  a  fire  down  in ! 
He  smelt  Brimstun  I's  in  a  wile !     He  heerd 


Mr.  Pepper's  Eighth  Upheaving,        179 

Groanin !     He  heerd  Cussiri !     He  lieerd  Fites ! 

He  wos  a-thinkin  ov  a-goin  away  kind  ov  cairles, 

Wen  a  awful  deep  vois  sed — Pich  in,  Abner  I 

He  heerd  a  rumblin !     Weelbarer  cairn  up 

&  goind  into  the  entrety  I     Go  in,  Abner, 

It  sed,  astonisht  at  his  hangin  of: 

&  then,  cuite  axidentel,  run  agin  him. 

He  saw  the  mistaik  wos  a-goin  to  proov  faitel, 
So  he  braist  hisself,  &  giv  a  shrik  as  left 
the  furis  Wind  seclooded  into  Ekos ; 
&  a-feUn  sertin  as  a  nuther  oath 
Woodent  be  ap  fur  to  increas  the  expens, 
He  indulged  hisself  as  he  wos  a-goin  doun. 

n.  b.  let  us  hoap  the  last  Cus 

wosent  notist  in  the  confuzion. 

MORL  IS   OBVIS. 


AN    ADVENTURE    IN    THE    DARK. 

(calculated  for  the  MERIDIAN  OF  SEVERAL  SMALL  PLACES.) 


Tuesday,  August  18. 

ME.  EDITOE : — There  is  not  a  quieter  person  in 
the  village  than  I  am  :  I  rarely  have  an  adven- 
ture, and  do  not  often  have  the  good  fortune  to  be 
astonished  into  a  new  sensation.  When  I  am  thus 
favored, — when  I  really  do  have  an  adventure, — why, 
all  my  friends  are  pretty  sure  to  hear  of  it,  sooner  or 
later. 

Last  night — ■ 

It  is  really  a  wonder  I  have  so  commanded  myself  I 
Perhaps  you'll  not  believe  me,  but  actually  I  have 
not  told  a  single  person  (nor  any  married  ones) ;  hav- 
ing determined  to  be  strictly  impartial,  and  tell  every 
body  at  once. 


An  Adventure  in  the  Dark.  181 

Last  night — 

I  am  afraid  people  will  not  credit  so  strange  a  re- 
cital :  it  is  rare,  nowadays,  to  find  any  one  who  has 
seen  the but  stop  I  let  me  not  anticipate. 

Last  night — 

I  am  half  a  mind,  now,  to  keep  it  to  myself.  Yes 
— no,  people  will  call  it  an  idle  tale :  yes,  I  will  tell  it. 
It  may  do  some  good ;  at  any  rate  it  will  be  a  relief 
to  me. 

Last  night  I  had  occasion  to  visit  the  upper  part  of 
the  town,  and  was  going  up  the  side-walk,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  a  certain  liberty-pole.  It  was  quite  dark,  and 
the  hour  was  late;  so  I  was  obliged  to  proceed 
with  some  caution.  Notwithstanding  qyqtj  care,  I 
ran  against  a  post  in  front  of  the  Doctor's  office,  and 
received  such  a  shock  as  I  don't  care  to  experience 
again  very  soon.  A  little  farther  on,  I  damaged  my- 
self by  a  full  length  contact  with  the  fence,  in  my 
anxiety  to  avoid  posts,  and  then  conckided  to  avail 
myself  of  the  guidance  it  afforded.  At  the  corner  by 
the  pole,  I  had  taken  my  bearings,  and  was  about  to 
strike  out  for  the  fence  on  the  next  corner,  when  a 
shrill,  though  faint  feminine  voice  called  out,  as  though 
from  a  distance : 


i82  An  Adventure  in  the  Dark. 

''Hallo-o-o-o!"    • 

I  judged,  from  tlie  tone,  that  the  possessor  of  the 
voice  was  not  so  much  in  immediate  danger,  as  in 
some  sort  of  predicament,  in  the  extrication  from 
which  she  required  aid ;  but  I  had  not  the  shghtest 
idea  what  direction  I  should  take. 

"  Hallo !"  I  shouted,  in  return. 

"  Hallo-o-o-o  I"  again  came  from  the  distance. 

"  All  right,  it's  up  the  street,"  I  muttered,  starting 
on.     I  soon  discovered  I  was  mistaken. 

"  Don't  go^I  am  up  he-e-e-re !" 

As  true  as  I  am  writing  here,  Mr.  Editor,  it  came 
from  the  top  of  the  liberty-pole ! 

"  What  the  d ^1  are  you  abo-o-o-ut?"  I  sang  out, 

at  the  top  of  my  lungs.    (I  am  always  a  little  profane 
when  excited.) 

"  Come  up  and  I'll  te-e-e-ell  you !"  replied  the  odd- 
ly-situated female. 

Eather  provoked  that  she  had  not  sense  enough  to 
come  down,  instead  of  inviting  me  up  to  break  down 
with  her — ^yet  determined  not  to  yell  again,  for  obvi 
ous  reasons — I  commenced  the  ascent. 

I  reached  the  "  cross-trees  "  with  some  difficulty, 
tut  to  my  surprise  found  no  one  there. 


An  Adventure  in  the  Dark.  183 

"Hallo  !"  I  barked,  a  little  angrily 

"  Oh  !  how  you  frightened  me !"  said  the  female — 
apparently  about  twenty  feet  higher  up.  "  Don't  say 
another  word,"  she  went  on,  "  and  you  shall  soon 
know  why  I  am  here." 

"  How  do  you  stick  there?"  I  asked. 

"Oh!  I  can't  tell,"  she  said,  "  it  astonishes  me,  too. 
But  I  must  hurry  and  tell  you  why  I  came  here.  I've 
been  here  at  least  two  hours.  I  was  going  by  that 
empty  house  on  the  corner,  when  I  thought  I  saw  a 
light  shining  under  the  door.  '  Something  going  on 
here,'  I  said  to  myself;  '  this  must  be  looked  into.' 
So  I  mounted  the  steps,  and  had  just  got  my  eye  well 
to  the  key-hole,  when  the  door  flew  open,  and  two 
horrible -looking  objects,  in  black,  seized  me  and  ran 
through  to  the  cellar  door.  A  sort  of  bluish  flame 
was  coming  up  the  stairs,  and  with  it  a  smell  of  sul- 
phur that  almost  choked  me.  N"otwithstanding  my 
shrieks  and  struggles,  they  hurried  me  down,  and  left 
me,  half  dead,  on  the  ground  or  pavement  of  the  cel- 
lar. When  I  had  a  little  come  to  myself,  I  saw  that 
the  sulphurous  flame  came  from  a  large,  circular  open- 
ing in  the  ground,  by  the  side  of  which  sat  a  being 
who  I  at  once  knew  must  be  the  d ^1 !     0  !  I  canH 


184  An  Adventure  in  the  Dark. 

describe  him !  To  use  a  common  phrase — '  he  must 
be  seen  to  be  appreciated.'  Black,  diaboHcal,  terrible, 
■^^iie  seemed  to  chain  me  where  I  stood,  by  the  very 
Inagic  of  his  awful  eye !  '  Ha  I  ha !  old  woman  I'  said 
he,  '  have  I  caught  you  at  last  ? — I  don't  know  what 
to  do  with  you,  now  I've  got  you.  You'll  set  all  my 
dominions  by  the  ears,  if  I  take  you  with  me.  Al- 
though you've  done  me  an  immense  amount  of  good 
in  this  village,  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  think  of 
you  as  you  deserve.  I  positively  can't  keep  from  de- 
spising you.' " 

"  Eather  complimentary,  from  Am/"  I  re- 
marked. 

"  Awful, — awful P''  she  replied ; — "  but  don't  inter- 
rupt me.  '  Old  woman  !'  said  he,  *  you  can't  see 
me,  by  day-light ;  but  many  a  Sunday  morning  have 
I  sat  on  the  steps  of  those  temples,  in  which  I  am  so 
abused,  in  order  to  observe  the  people  as  they  come 
in.  You  should  see  me  skip  nimbly  aside,  at  times, 
to  avoid  being  trampled  on ;  you  should  see  me  follow 
in  some  old  fool  who  is  soon  to  become  my  prey, — 
some  sanctimonious  hypocrite,  grown  grey  in  his 
whining  habits  of  mock  piety, — ^who  has  almost  in- 
cluded himself  in  the  list  of  converts  to  the  belief  in 


An  Adventure  in  the  Dark.  185 

Hs  holiness.  At  the  cliurch  up  there  on  the  hill, 
I  have  been  better  pleased  at  one  thing,  than  I  have 
been  in  all  my  travels — pretty  extensive,  too,  they 
have  been.  Not  even  in  the  larger  cities,  like  ISTew 
York,  is  spiritual  snobbishness  carried  farther.  They 
come  in  so  laie^  sometimes,  I  can't  contain  myself, 
but  skip  about  those  ample  steps  for  joy ;  I  climb 
the  lightning-rod,  and  tap  softly  on  the  bell,  in  mock- 
ery of  their  tardiness. — Thafs  reverence,  is  it  ? — 
thais  Christian  regard  for  propriety,  and  the  feel- 
ings of  your  fellow  Christians?  Aha!  were  it  not 
for  Fashion,  and  especially  for  the  respect  which 
those  pay  her  who  can't  even  claim  acquaintance 
with  her,  I  think  I  should  despair  of  quite  a  large 
portion  of  your  fellow  creatures.  (For  the  real  truth 
is — ^it  is  not  the  fashion,  except  in  some  out-of-the- 
way  place  like  this,  to  be  late  at  church.) — But — 
I  forget  myself.  I  shall  try  and  like  you,  old  wo- 
man. It  does  me  good  to  think  of  all  you're  doing 
for  me  here.  The  bickerings,  jealousies,  and  general 
ill-feelings  you  create,  incite,  or  circulate, — the  mighty 
mountains  you  continually  make  of  mole-hills — that 
kind  of  service  saves  me  a  world  of  trouble.    There ! 


l86  An  Adventure  in  the  Dark. 

I  have  hored  you  long  enough.  You  will  stand  by 
me,  won't  you  ?" — What  could  I  do  but  promise  him  ? 
I  would  have  done  any  thing  to  get  away  from  that 
horrid  place.  He  let  me  go.  Before  I  reached  the 
top  of  the  stairs  I  looked  behind,  such  was  my  curio- 
sity, and  he  had  vanished  ;  the  ground  was  closed  up, 
and  all  was  smooth  as  before.  Yet  such  was  my  fright 
and  agitation,  I  rushed  out,  and,  for  safety,  scarcely 
knowing  what  I  did,  climbed  this  pole,  on  which  I 
have  hung  ever  since." 

"  Got  through,  have  you  ?"  said  I. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "and  I'd  thank  you,  now,  to 
take  me  from  this  horrid  pole." 

"  Who  are  you?"  I  asked. 

"  I  would  prefer  not  to  tell  you,  till  you 
have  helped  me  down ;  for  I'm  afraid  my  name 
will  prejudice  you  against  me.  I  may  say  that  I 
have  long  resided  here — as  I  find  many  congenial 
spirits,  and  am  heartily  welcomed  to  half  the  homes 
in  town." 

"I  ought  to  know  you,"  I  remarked,  "  for  your 
voice  is  familiar  enough;  but  I  really  don't  recog- 
nise you,   and  I  am  resolved  not  to  assist  you  till 


An  Adventure  in  the  Dark.  187 

you  make  yourself  known."  I  was  thus  severe, 
because,  from  all  she  had  said,  I  was  a  little  sus- 
picious of  her. 

"Oh I  well,"  she  said,  with  forced  resignation,  "if 
you  oblige  me,  of  course  I  must  tell ;  for  if  you  leave 
me  here,  I  shall  die — and  I  have  many  friends  in  this 
village  who  will  weep  for  me.  I  belong,  sir,  to  a  nu- 
merous family,  mostly  daughters.  My  family  name 
(it  is  one  of  great  antiquity)  is  G-ossip.  I  am  some- 
times called  Innuendo  (a  pretty  name,  I  think),  and 
sometimes.  Sneer;  but  my  proper  title  is  Scandal. 
I—" 

"  You  needn't  go  any  further,"  said  I ;  "  and  you 
wonH^  if  I  can  help  it.  Good  night.  Miss,  and  plea- 
sant dreams."  "With  that,  I  descended,  unheeding  the 
dismal  howling  of  the  hag  (or  the  assurance  that  she 
had  something  interesting  to  communicate),  and  stum- 
bled along  home — ^having  run  into  five  trees,  two  posts, 
and  an  old  cow,  besides  filling  my  hands  with  slivers 
from  the  fence. 

Whether  the  "old  woman"  finally  got  down  of 
herself,  or  was  blown  away  in  the  night,  I  know  not. 
She  wasn't  there  this  morning,  and  I  discovered  no 


i88 


An  Adventure  in  the  Dark. 


"mangled  remains"  at  tlie  foot  of  tlie  pole.  I'll  bet 
you  a  year's  subscription  she  is  ahve  and  well,  and  has 
made  twenty  calls  since  daylight. 

Your  fatigued  friend, 
Bored-to-Death, 
Chief  of  the  Own-no-doggies, 


MR.  PEPPER'S  ASTONISHING  NINTH. 


"  Our  noble  Prince  is  found  ! 
Let  the  woods  with  joy  resound." — Cinderella. 

EooM  there  for  Mr.  Podd  ! 

Demosthenes  Four  Corners,  May  16. 
U  "ITR.  CLARK,  EDITOR.— Sir:  Although  the  emotion  of 
joy  is  yet  agitating  this  mortal  Frame,  I  can  at  least 
compose  myself  sufficiently  to  inform  you  that  the  immor- 
tal Poet  still  lives !  My  despairing  search  after  the  Body  was 
changed  into  a  joyful  discovery  of  the  Soul,  still  in  connexion 
with  that  body.  Just  as  I  was  giving  up  the  search  in  despair,  I 
found  him  recHning  upon  the  summit  of  a  Shed,  in  the  attitude 
in  which  he  composed  that  most  affecting  of  Poems,  the  '  Address 
to  a  Bird  on  the  Fence.'  His  eyes  were  closed :  G-enus  was 
sleeping.  Having  with  some  difficulty  attained  the  elevation 
alluded  to,  I  Joggled  him.  Over  the  next  ten  minutes,  with 
your  permission,  I  will  drop  a  veil.        ***** 


igo      Mr.  Pepper's  Astonishing  Ninth. 

"  Sir :  He  has  suffered.  He  is  now  at  my  home,  slowly  re- 
covering from  the  exhaustion  and  Misery,  which  he  assures  me 
always  follow  a  Great  Effort. 

"He  has  even  ventured  upon  another  Poem,  in  which  we 
discover  strong  traces  of  his  master  Hand.  I  am  confident  no 
other  Poet — certainly  no  mere  Philosopher — could  so  clearly 
explain  his  subject,  and  at  the  same  time  bathe  it  so  effectually 
in  the  Eternal  Waters  of  Genus.  The  Arcana  of  Nature  are 
mere  trifles  to  an  Intellect  like  his. 

"  I  never  shall  forget  the  answer  he  once  gave  to  the  Proposi- 
tion of  a  shallow  wise  Acre.  It  was  so  philosophic  and  so  Just. 
The  intelligent  Acre  said  he  had  no  doubt  that  in  digging  to- 
wards the  centre  of  the  Earth,  we  get  warmer  as  we  go  down. 
To  which  Genus  (with  a  face  like  Stephenses)  answered,  like  an 
Oracle :  '  What  makes  water  the  coldest  in  deep  wells  ? ' 

"  But  my  feehngs  have  carried  me  too  far.  I  could  write  on 
this  Theme  (I  think)  a  week — having,  at  stated  times,  a  Meal 
and  a  few  hours'  sleep. 

"I  send  the  Poem  alluded  to,  warm  from  Pepper's  Brain. 
"  With  consideration.  Sir,  Yours, 

"P.  Pepper  Podd." 

Mr.  Clark  received  that  Poem.  What  did  he 
say — what  could  he  have  said  of  it  but  this  : — 

"  We  thought  so !  When  we  saw  the  moon  in  echpse  pale 
her  ineffectual  Ught  in  the  still  mirror  of  the  Tappaan-Zee,  we 


Mr.  Pepper's  Astonishing  Ninth.       191 

said,  'in'erdly,'  'Surely,  surehj  Pepper  is  looking  at  that  pheno- 
mena ! '  We  were  right;  for  here  is  the  proof  of  it.  And  what 
a  perfect  thing  it  is,  in  its  way! — what  a  Torso  of  a  glorious 
statue  of  Genus  I " — 

EKLIPS. 
"  Behoald  the  moon,  diminisht  into  nothin  I 
At  I's  hese  chect,  his  brite  career  cut  of. 
I's  he  wos  rejoicin  that  he  wos  abel 
to  afoard  sech  a  good  artikel  ov  hte, 
He  bein  smal  &  not  yet  got  his  groath. 
But  the  praises  as  wos  lavisht  onto  him 
Hed  the  efect  fur  to  onsettel  his  mind. 
He  thougt  ov  his  rivels  as  wos  gellus, 
&  wos  afraid  hade  git  hert ;  or  wots  wers 
to  a  sensitiv  loominery — squencht. 

"His  wers  feers,  alas!  air  sadly  realizd. 
Altho  he  wood  shine,  yet  we  se  he  cant : 
in  consekens  ov  a  peculer  arraingment 
Al  ov  his  eforts  doant  doo  no  good.    Wi  did  Erth 
Step  in  so  furis,  &  elbo  of  ov  the  trac 
The  sweet  moon  as  hed  delited  thousans  ? 
Wi?  did  i  say  wi?   i  sed  wi. 
Evidently  becos  he  wos  a-burnin  too  much  ile. 
He  wos  a-exertin  ov  hisself  in  a  onnateral  maner. 
Good  he  expec  to  shine  so  alas? 
Dident  Erth  no  it  ?    Dus  Erth  no  eny  thing  ? 


192       Mr.  Pepper's  Astonishing  Ninth. 

lies  he  administerd  a  chec  onto  the  occaishun  ? 

Wi  did  the  clowds  cum  up  &  complect  the  seen  ? 

Wi  ?    Becos  al  nacher  simpathizes. 

They  regelates  each  uther.     Wen  1  goas  it 

too  fast  fur  his  helth,  thay  al  resun  with  him, — 

1st  mild ;  &  ef  that  doant  doo  no  good, 

then  raither  stronger,  as  we  se.     its  supoasd 

that  2  or  3  sech  corecshuns  in  a  year 

is  al  as  keeps  him  frum  a-maikin  a  fool  ov  hisself. 


"  But  mi  muse  she  is  a-levin.     Shese  afeerd 
to  trust  her  Pepper  sens  the  Grait  Pome, 
i  expec  it  ivos  raither  hard  on  her, 
Grugin  frum  mi  oan  melancolly  sitooashun, 
Wich  is  Bad.     alas !  Hke  unfortoonat  Moon, 
the  Pote  wos  too  cairles  in  the  yuse  ov  his  ile. 
His  firewercs  wos  fine,  but  too  egspensiv : 
So  Nacher  steps  in,  noes  G-enus  concaiv, 
&  he  is  presently  a  agerwaited  Hewman  Eklips 
ov  the  wers  kind,     sech  is  the  misfortoons  ov  Genus." 


PHARAOH : 

A  TALE  OF  BRICKS. 


THEEE  unhappily  exists  a  widely-extended  preju- 
dice against  Pharaoli.  He  is  charged  with  hav- 
ing hindered  the  children  of  Israel  from  leaving  their 
lodgings  in  Egypt  on  the  first  of  May,  thus  forcing 
them,  by  construction,  to  stay  another  year. 

But  how  he  can  have  incurred  this  charge,  I  cannot 
conceive,  when  it  is  well  known  that  this  good  king 
would  not  lay  a  straw  in  their  way.  True,  we  are 
told,  and  believe,  that  he  refused  to  let  them  go :  but 
all  hard  feelings  must  melt  away  when  it  is  known 
that  he  was  here  playing  the  part  of  the  philanthropist, 
if  the  date  of  the  transaction  would  hardly  let  him 
play  the  Christian. 

9 


194  Pharaoh. 

There  is  a  game  with  cards  called  Poker,  easily 
to  he  learned,  hut  wonderfully  fascinating  to  those 
who  engage  in  the  practice  of  it.  This  enticing  game 
was  indulged  in  to  a  frightful  excess  hy  the  younger 
and  even  the  older  Israelites  of  that  day.  It  is  well 
known  that  amongst  the  phraseology  peculiar  to  that 
game,  is  found  the  word  '  Go,'  which,  perverted  from 
its  integrity,  means  to  stay^  and  stake  more  money. 
Now  these  youthful  but  sadly  profligate  Hebrews  did 
nothing,  in  their  leisure  hours,  but  play  at  poker ;  and 
the  suburbs  of  the  city,  in  which  they  principally  re- 
sided, would  at  those  times  ring  with  the  technical 
chanting  :  "  I'll  GO  you  three  pieces  better !"  "  I'll  go 
you  six  pieces  better !"  etc.,  etc.,  the  sound  of  which 
discordant  tumult  would  often  reach  the  ears  of  the 
king  in  his  royal  palace.  Filled  with  solicitude  for 
the  welfare  of  his  beloved  people,  the  good  and  gene- 
rous Pharaoh  questioned  with  his  prime  minister  in 
regard  to  the  best  means  of  suppressing  the  game,  and 
preventing  the  ruin  of  his  subjects,  speaking  as  fol- 
lows:— "I  don't  want  to  say.  Children  of  Israel, 
d — ^n  you,  you  must  stop  playing  Poker!  for  that 
would  perhaps  hurt  their  feelings,  and  indeed  might 
end  in  hurting  mine,  which  you  are  well  aware  are 


.  Pharaoh.  195 

very  tender.  What  are  you  forward  enough  to  ad- 
vise ?"  Upon  which  the  prime  minister  bowed  three 
times  to  the  ground,  each  time  casting  a  httle  dirt  on 
his  head  (which,  having  watched  his  opportunity,  he 
took  occasion  to  wipe  carefully  off  on  the  skirt  of  the 
king's  robe),  and  went  on  in  the  following  tiresome 
manner :  "  Your  Royal  Highness  is  aware  that  your 
Royal  Highness  could  put  an  end  to  those  pernicious 
practices  among  a  portion  of  your  Royal  Highness's 
subjects " 

"  Stop  there !"  cried  the  king,  with  some  irritation; 
"  don't  '  Royal  Highness'  me  so  much  :  it's  annoy- 
ing !" 

"  Yery  well,  your  Royal " 

"  D — n  you!"  shouted  the  now  enraged  king,  "  I'll 
have  you  drowned  in  my  fish-pond  if  you  say  that 
word  again !" 

"As  your  Majesty  pleases,"  said  the  compliant 
ministei  "  As  I  was  going  on  to  say,  when  your 
Majesty  cursed  me " 

"Nor  'Majesty'  either,"  interrupted  Pharaoh,  get- 
ting a  little  unreasonable,  which  is  so  very  odd  in  a 
king. 

"  Well,  Sir— you  old  fool '' 


1 96  Pharaoh. 

''  There,  now — go  on,"  said  the  pacified  Monarch. 

"  I  think,"  pursued  the  minister,  "I  think " 

"First  /'ve  heard  of  it,"  said  Pharaoh. 

"  It's  50  !"  said  the  minister,  being  the  first  record- 
ed use  of  that  now  common  expression,  of  which  he 
was  undoubtedly  the  originator. 

"  Ox  at  least  I  was  thinking,"  pursued  the  conscien- 
tious minister. 

"Oh!"  was  the  laconic  interjection  of  the  king. 

"  I  was  thinking  you  might  give  out  that  there 
was  one  word  in  the  Egyptian  language,  to  hear 
which  always  afflicts  you  with  a  species  of  moral 
insanity,  and " 

*'  "What  the  d 1  is  that  ?"  cried  the  profane  but 

otherwise  exemplary  king. 

"  Oh !  it's  something  you'll  hear  enough  of,  if 
you  Hve  long  enough !"  which  was  literally  true. 

"  Well,  go  on,"  said  the  impatient  potentate. 

"You  therefore  decree  that  the  obnoxious  word 
shall  be  no  longer  used — that  word  being  '  GO.' 
Now,  if  you  rob  a  game " 

"  Ketch  me !"  chuckled  Pharaoh,  using  a  popular 
phrase  of  the  day.  "  I  ain't  like  the  common  run  of 
kings :  I  don't  rob.     I  '  take'  though." 


Pharaoh.  197 

"  So  do  I,"  added  the  minister.  "  I  was  going  to 
say  if  you  take  from  a  game  its  technical  phrases,  you 
destroy  it.  Think  of  it,  old  boy  I  the  abolition  of 
one  little  word,  of  two  letters,  wilL  save  the  twelve 
tribes  of  Israel  from  damnation !" 

"Eloquent,  saucy,  and  correct,"  said  the  king. 
So  the  edict  was  issued;  and  unjust  history  records, 
without  comment,  that  Pharaoh  would  not  let  the 
children  of  Israel  go  ! 

True,  those  unfortunate  children  "  didn't  like  it 
much,"  as  some  of  them  remarked  at  the  time;  it 
was  not  in  human  nature  for  them  to  like  it.  But,  at 
the  same  moment,  they  could  not  justly  attach  much 
blame  to  Pharaoh.  Their  feelings  are  perhaps  sig- 
nificantly expressed  in  the  following  couplet,  which, 
at  jovial  meetings  of  the  grand-children  of  Israel, 
was  wont  to  be  given  as  a  toast,  and  drunk  with 
groans,  and  other  more  antique  demonstrations  of 
disapproval: 

"  Let  the  toast  ne'er  vary,  0, 
'  Insanity'  to  Pharaoh  I" 

in  which  amusing  lines  many  affirm  to  discover  only 
a  playftd  allusion  to  the  innocent  ruse  of  the  king. 


198  Pharaoh. 

Many  other  things  might  be  mentioned  of  our 
hero ;  as,  for  instance,  his  having  given  its  name  to 
the  neighboring  sea,  from  a  bright  expression  of  his 
little  son,  then  just  three  years,  ten  months,  and  nine 
days  old;  who,  being  taken  for  the  first  time  near 
the  water,  thought  he  detected  a  vermilionish  shade 
in  it,  and  in  his  laconic  way  cried  out ;  "  Eed  I  See  I" 

But  Pharaoh  was  not  one  to  be  talked  about 
like  any  common  man.  "We  are  apt  to  insult  the 
shades  of  great  men  by  "  letting  on"  all  we  know 
about  them.     This  is  wrong. 

One  other  little  incident  may  be  mentioned,  which, 
as  it  wound  up  Pharaoh,  may  serve  to  wind  up  this 
sketch  of  him. 

Pharaoh,  it  is  well  known,  was  drowned  one  fine 
winter,  while  skating  on  the  Red  Sea.  He  was  follow- 
ing Moses,  who  had  "  dared"  him ;  but  being  a  much 
"  heftier  man  than  what  Moses  was,"  unfortunately 
"  went  under"  at  a  thin  place,  at  the  same  going  over 
Jordan;  which  (what  with  his  skates,  etc.)  we  may 
imagine  to  have  been  rather  "  a  hard  road  to  travel" 
than  otherwise,  particularly  as  that  river  was  not  yet 
frozen  over.  It  is  related  that  Moses  went  on,  un- 
consciously, for  a  dozen  miles  or  more,  and  then, 


Pharaoh. 


199 


thinking  it  was  "  mighty  still  behind,"  turns  around, 
and  finding  a  reason  for  it,  says:  "Where's  Pha- 
raoh?" We  may  fancy  the  inimitable  sly  humor 
which  Moses  threw  into  this  remark,  as  he  undoubt- 
edly fancied  he  had  "  distanced  him,"  and  knew  well 
enough  where  he  was.     He  had  "  rather  left  him." 

Pharaoh  was  a  good  man.  Let  him  requiescat 
if  he  wants  to,  selecting  for  the  locality,  C,  or  any 
other  convenient  Eed  letter  of  the  alphabet. 


Si 


^         l&l^         S? 


DECEMBER  IN    THE   COUNTRY. 


THESE  falling  flakes,  which  fill  the  street— 
With  mud, 
Cover  your  cow,  which  slowly  chews 

Its  cud, 
"With  such  a  coat! — so  white,  and  neat! — 
In  spite  of  this  defence  against  the  dews 
She  must  feel  cold. 
She's  old: 
You  see  it  in  the  horn. 
That  monstrous  pig — 
So  big 
And  dirty  it  can  well  adorn 

"  No  place  Hke  home  " — 
Trots  forward  in  its  known,  invisible  trail, 
(How  that  deep  grunt  its  fat  sides  shook !) 
And  sways  its  tail 
In  agony. 


December  in  the  Country.  20 1 

You  see 
How  shivering  bipeds  look, 

And  walk, 

And  talk : 
And  how  they  swear  ! 
Good  gracious !  Bob — see  there  I 
Mud  two  feet  deep ! 

What's  in  it? 
Let's  take  a  peep  : 

I've  seen  it  I 

What  news  ? 
Two  overshoes  1 


MR.    PEPPER'S    THRILLING    LETTER 
FROM    NEW   YORK. 


THE  thinness  of  the  poet  having  become  excessive, 
and,  to  the  affectionate  Podd,  alarming,  that 
gentleman .  reasoned  with  himself,  and  finally  and 
munificently  concluded  to  send  him  to  New  York, 
for  a  change  of  air;  hoping  that  he  would  return 
with  health,  both  of  body  and  mind.  Soon  after  his 
arrival,  he  wrote  to  his  benefactor  the  following 
letter,  giving  an  account  of  his  varied  adventures: 

"St.  Nickolas  Hous,  New  York,  Oct,  1855. 
"Fren  Podd: 

"Deer  Feller:  Hevin  got  setteld  into  mi  new  corters,  i 
imejitly  remember  mi  oald  reverens  &  Aw  fur  your  karicter, 
wich  is  simular  to  Washingtons  oanly  you  haint  hed  no  clians 
to  fite  &  develup  ^oi;r  talens.     Youm  a  partickelerly  mute 


Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter.         203 

Ham  done  &  a  raither  ingloris  Milton  (wich  tribyout  plees 
acsept  in  remembrens  ov  me.) 

"  altho  we  New  Yorkers  doant  thine  nothin  ov  it,  praps  a 
breef  discripshun  ov  this  sitj  wood  be  interestin  &  instrucktiv 
2  a  kedentry  feller  like  you.  New  York  is  comprised  onto  a 
Hand  wich  is  sevral  mild  long  &  raither  less  brod.  the  prinsipel 
road  is  Brod  way,  besides  wich  their  is  as  much  as  19  or  20 
uthers,  be  the  saim  moar  or  less,  in  varis  plaisis  is  a  liburty 
Poal,  oald  with  aig.  this  is  al  i  ken  thine  ov  now.  so  ile  giv 
you  discripshun  ov  mi  adventers  sens  i  left  your  hospital 
Manshun. 

"It  wos  al  rite  onto  the  boat,  dident  you  notis  how  the 
Captins  i's  sparkeld  wen  you  introdoost  me?  So''thay  did  al 
the  way  down,  he  wos  a-complainin  ov  soar  i's  wen  we  got 
heer.  he  giv  me  the  1st  chop  ov  everything,  &;  i  dident  hev  to 
pay  a  red  sent.  I  heerd  a  lady  wisper  '  hoos  that  distingish 
furrin  lookin  individooal,  a  lenin  so  graisfuUy  onto  his  elbo?' 
wen  she  found  out,  she  coodent  help  fallin  into  luv  imejitly. 
but  as  i  discuverd  her  faither  wos  oanly  a  aldurman,  i  very 
properly  looct  coald  onto  her.  (besides,  how  cood  i  furgit 
Hanah  gane!)  wen  i  wos  a-comin  of  ov  the  boat,  the  yung 
lady  stood  thayr  with  her  frens,  &  sed,  '  heer  cums  the  red- 
haird  foo-foo  agin !'  wich  wos  verry  kind  ov  her,  as  ime  alus 
angshus  to  be  noan.  frum  the  '  red  hair,'  &  not  noin  wot  'foo- 
foo  '  ment,  I  thougt  at  1st  she  wos  mad  a  littel ;  but  a  yung  man 
wich  i  saw  aflerwerds  sed  'foo-foo'  ment  'german  Barren,'  & 
that  the  germans  (espeshelly  the  Barrens)  wairs  red  hair  out  ov 


204         Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter.   . 

chois.     how  strong  is  womans  afechshun  !    she  doant  chaing  fur 
nothin. 

"How  they  pull  a  feUer  onto  the  docks  I  wen  i  got  of, 
sum  httel  Bois  cumd  a-runnin  up,  &  sed  al  to  I's — 'cary  your 
carpit-bag,  mister  I' — techt  bi  sech  kindnes,  i  wos  a-givin  ov  it 
to  1  ov  em  wen  a  nuther  1  sed — ^  ile  cary  it  fur  5  sents ;'  1  moar 
yeld,  with  tears  into  his  i's,  '4  sents,'  &  so  thaykep  a-goin  down, 
a-hunchin  ov  ech  uther,  til  1  sed,  '  ile  cary  it  fur  nothin,'  &  as  i 
coodent  wait  fur  em  to  git  to  payin  me  fur  the  chans,  i  let  the 
last  boy  hev  it,  fur  wich  privelig  he  seemd  moar  thankful  than  i 
wos  to  git  it  dun  so  cheep,  as  i  wos  a-goin  to  Nickerhocker  Offis 
1st,  i  askt  a  man  with  a  wip  wair  Brodway  wos,  &  he  sed  '  4 
mild  further  on,'  &  askt  me  ef  '  ide  hev  a  carrig — oanly  a  doler.' 
noin  i  coodent  afoard  it,  i  toald  him  i  wos  fond  ov  wockin,  wich 
he  sed  it  wos  cuite  lucky  i  wos.  after  goin  3  or  4  blocs  i  cum,d 
to  a  nice  wide  road  &  a  L  ov  a  nois.  i  askt  a  man  wot  it  wos 
cald,  wich  looct  at  me  a  spel  as  ef  struc  with  Astonishmeant,  & 
sed — '  wair  did  you  cum  frum,  greny  ?  that's  Brodway ' — &  then  i 
noo  the  man  with  the  wip  hed  ben  a-lyin.  i  wos  a-goin  bac  to 
lie  him,  but  thougt  i  woodent. 

"  wen  ide  got  up  a  littel  ways  i  met  a  wel  drest  yung  man 
wich  looct  egzackly  as  i  looc  into  a  glass :  it  wos  gest  as  ef  a 
man  wocks  out  &  sees  hisself  a-comin  along,  i  cood  se  Genus 
into  his  i.  he  notist  i  wos  a-lookin  at  him,  so  he  cumd  up  & 
sed  he  thougt  he  noo  me.  wen  i  toald  him  hoo  i  wos  he  went 
into  rapchers,  &  sed  he  admird  me  so  much  he  didnt  no  as 
hede  be  abel  to  expres  hisself.     he  oferd  to  show  me  sum  sites, 


Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter.         205 

BO  we  went  along  together,  we  soon  cum  to  a  plais  dug  out  in 
the  side  wock  wair  thay  wos  a-buildin  a  cuppel  ov  uvens-Hke. 
he  sed  wede  hev  wor  soon,  &  them  wos  to  put  Bums  in,  to 
bio  up  the  British  &  French,  he  sed  evry  hous  hed  1  or  2, 
reddy  to  tech  of.  wot  a  awful  plais  fur  a  horstil  Army !  i  thine 
i  heer  somethin  go  of  now — &  se  about  1000  evacuatin  ov  the  dty. 
i  thine  i  se  a  hul  Army  fall  bac  !  i  thine  i  heer  em  cus  I  &  then 
i  thine  i  doant. 

"  Perty  soon  we  cum  to  a  corner,  wen  mi  fren  remarct  that 
a  man  wonted  to  se  him,  a  few  dears  down  this  street,  &  toald 
me  to  wait  fur  him.  i  ges  hkely  he  found  his  fren,  fur  i  waitid 
so  long  that  foalks  toald  me  to  moov  on,  or  els  git  mi  feet  out 
ov  the  way ;  boath  ov  wich  i  finelly  did.  wen  i  got  to  348  i 
found  i  hed  to  cros  the  road,  &  bi  giminy !  how  the  drivers 
swoar  at  me !  i  cum  purty  neer  gittin  run  over,  too,  also  ov  a- 
fallin  down  &  a-gittin  mi  pans  derty.  wen  the  Boy  giv  me  mi 
carpit-bag,  wot  wos  mi  serpris  to  hev  him  put  out  his  hand  &  say 
— cum,  mister,  hand  over  that  shad-scaU !  '  Sech  lyin  /'  i  wos 
so  astonisht  i  stood  putrifide  to  the  spot,  i  raisd  mi  bag  to  strike 
at  him,  wen  he  run  of,  observin — ^perajps  i  dident  se  no  boddy  a- 
handlin  ov  your  oald  silver  watch  nor  noihin  /' — wich  alas !  Podd, 
wosent  no  goak.  it  wos  gone !  i  went  up  stairs  with  a  hevy 
Hart,  &  a  teer  into  mi  i. 

"  wen  MR.  Hewston  discuverd  hoo  wos  his  visiter,  he  manifest 
deep  emoshun ;  &  a-smoothin  ov  his  gray  &  wite  Baird,  sed — 
*this  is  the  prowdest  moment  ov  mi  life  I'  wich  i  thougt  cuite 
likly.     a  yung  man  cald  Sly  fel  onto  his  nee,  &  gaisd  at  me  with 


2o6  Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter. 

speecliles  addorashun.  '  Sly,'  sed  mr.  Hewston,  '  we  woant 
were  no  moar  to-day.  mr.  Pepper,  air  you  fond  ov  Appel  ? ' 
wen  i  replide  i  wos,  he  toald  mr.  Sly  to  go  out  &  git  me  1 : 
wich  roas  &  went,  i  found  how  rite  wos  his  naim,  wen  he  cairn 
bac.  the  Appel  hed  a  peese  bit  out.  wen  i  remarct  onto  the 
goodnes  ov  proffidens  in  a-maikin  ov  the  Appel,  he  sed  Appel 
wos  good,  then  he  sed  the  Publishers  Assosiashun,  hevin  herd 
1  wos  a-comin,  wantid  me  to  oner  the  cristel  Palis  with  mi  presens 
at  a  Feast  ov  Anthers,  amungst  wich  i  stood  so  elevatid.  '  thayr,' 
sed  he,  'you'll -git  lots  ov  the  produckshuns  ov  the  Orcherd, 
ef  you  doant  git  nothin  els ;'  wich  las  part  he  spoak  into  a  melon- 
colly  toan,  as  i  afterwords  discuverd  he  hed  resim  for.  he  now 
giv  me  a  wite  card,  about  2  foot  wide,  with  '  G.  P.  P.'  roat  onto 
it  in  ritin,  wich  evidenly  ment — Giv  Pepper  Plais.  eny  ways  i 
no  it  hed  that  effect. 

"  wile  i  wos  a-settin  thayr,  hoo  shood  cum  in  but  mr.  Clark. 
he  noo  me  bi  instinc,  imejitly,  &  in  a  Profetic  vols  sed — '  i  noo 
as  how  Graitnes  wos  heer !  &  now  how  doo  you  find  yourself, 
o  yooth  ?' — to  wich  i  replide  into  mi  usooal  graisful  stile ;  after 
wich  we  went  down  &  hed  Clamb  onto  the  I  shel.  He  sed  i 
must  go  hoam  with  him,  up  the  river,  &  inhail  the  patriotic  air 
ov  Washington's  Hed  |s,  &  John  Anderson's  gallus.  no  sooner 
sed  than  dun.  at  3  p.  m.,  wich  wos  a  few  ours  after,  we  startid ; 
&  into  a  incredibel  short  spais  ov  time  we  glided  oar  the  lower 
part  ov  the  Hudson,  &  found  ourselves  ^  way  up  a  hill  in  Pier- 
mont,  a-standin  be4  a  Butiful  cottig,  &  a-engoyin  a  splendid  vew 
ov  the  river,  conseeld  bi  foor.     i  aint  got  time,  &  it  woodent  be 


Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter.         207 

fair  te  tell  al  about  wot  i  saw,  &  did,  &  herd,  &  thougt,  &c.,  but 
ile  oanly  remarc,  that  thay  wos  so  kind  it  seemd  as  ef  i  wos  bac 
to  mi  deer  fren  Podd's  agin !     1  thing  as  hapend  next  day  efec- 

tid  me  to  teers.     wile  we  wos  to  dinner,  in  cum  mr.  N 

(wich  is  a  fine  man)  with  3  red  peppers,  maid  into  a  bokay, 
wich  he  sed  his  wife  sent  fur  a  triboot  to  Genus,  mr.  Clark 
got  up  &  maid  a  Butiful  speech,  a-presentin  ov  em  to  me,  &  sot 
down  I's  moar  to  his  Lam.  i  tooc  the  triboot  with  emoshun,  & 
wen  1  roas  to  respon,  mi  teers  run  so,  i  coodent.  i  never  wos  so 
afectid  into  mi  life — &  i  hoap  i  never  shel  be  agin,  at  leest  not 
into  the  saim  way.     mi  apetite  was  compleetly  spile' t. 

•'  i  thine  i  must  rite  about  seein  the  Eelicts  ov  the  Revoloo- 
shun  sum  futer  time :  but  i  cant  help  spekin  ov  mr.  Folger,  the 
gentelmanly  oaner  &  proprietor  ov  the  '  76th  Hous.'  ef  his  i 
shood  pirseeve  this,  may  it  hte  onto  it  with  plesoor  &  a  smil : 
his  wifes  i  also. 

"i  am  a-stoppin  now  at  St.  Nickolas  Hous,  becos  it  sounds  so 
much  like  Nickerbocker.  How  different  frum  mi  littel  Hous  a- 
fruntin  onto  the  Laikl'  altho  i  git  the  werth  ov  mi  munny,  i 
shant  hev  no  munny  to  git  the  werth  ov,  ef  i  stay  heer  much 
longer :  i  shel  hev  to  looc  fur  a  hoam  kep  bi  sum  Benevolen 
femaO,  wot  gives  you  cheep  vittels. 

"  i  went  up  to  cristle  Palis  amungst  the  uther  anthers,  &  hed 
a  golly  time,  severil  ov  em  sed  how  thay  coodent  thine  ov 
ritin  eny  moar  boocs,  now  ide  commenst.  mr.  Briant  (a  pote) 
with  a  wite  Baird,  sed  mi  stile  wos  a  long  shot  ahed  ov  hissen. 
he  confest  mi  *  Orek  Slaiv '  cuite  noct  the  spots  of  ov  his  '  Tanny- 


2o8         Mr.  Pepper's  Thrilling  Letter. 

topsy.''  he  sed,  oald  as  he  wos  he  ment  to  beet  me  yet :  but  he 
ca-a-a-nt,  you  se ;  no  youst  a-tryin.  no  dout  he'll  conclood  to  stic 
to  his  Poast,  hke  a  sensibel  man,  &  not  tri  to  fli  like  Egul. 

"  WAsraNGTON  Irving  shed  teers  wen  he  se  me.  he  sed  i  re- 
minded nim  ov  somnolent  Jo,  in  Pickwic.  (wots  that,  i  wunder  ?) 
not  to  sho  mi  ignorens,  i  sed — '  so  a  grait  menny  hev  toald  me ;' 
wich  seemd  to  pleese  him.  he  sed  he  wisht  he  cood  go  out  & 
drinc  with  me,  but  he  supoasd  hede  hev  to  stay  thayr,  &  droun 
hisself  in  the  Aquis  Elemen.  i  foun  Appel  their.  Appel  wos 
good.     1  long-windid  feller,  after  hevin  a  pair  ov  tin  Lungs  maid 

(as  i  am  creditably  informd) ^but  i  must  stop,    ile  tel  you 

moar  in  mi  next. 

"  Yours  wile  the  Vitel  Sparc  continoos  to  shine, 

"K.  K  Pepper. 
"To  P.  Pepper  Podd,  Esq., 
"Demosthenes:  4.  C." 


TO  VENUS. 


I 


T  having  been  remarked,  in  the  presence  of  Miss 

,  that  "  Wean-us"  was  probably  the  evil 

star  of  infants,  the  justly  indignant  lady  felt  it  incum- 
bent on  her  to  issue  a  Yermillion  Edict,  commanding 
from  the  perpetrator  of  the  unfeeling  "joke,"  a  Poem 
and  retraction,  on  pain  of  perpetual  banishment  from 
her  presence.  Hastily  seizing  a  pencil,  the  unfortu- 
nate youth  commenced  the  following  lines,  just  as  the 
clock  was  striking  seven : — 

Most  lady-like  and  admirable  Venus  ! 

I  call  upon  those  worthy  "  coves"  of  old — 
That  fifer,  Pan,  and  his  rare  chum,  Silenus, 

To  aid  me  in  a  liquid  measure,  bold ; 

And  I'm  resolved  the  Afflatus  sha'n't  get  cold 
Till  we  have  hatched  a  poem  up,  between  us. 
And  let  "  some  angel  guide  my  pencil ;"  (stamped — 


210  To  Venus. 

"Brookman  and  Langdon  :  Ko.  2  :")  I'm  cramped, 
But  not  for  thoughts — only  for  skill  to  word  'em, 
They're  all  mixed  up  :  his  Majesty  has  stirred  'em. 
These  Unes  I  pen  for  you  ;  and  if  I've  blurred  'em. 
Please  to  remark  :  "redudio  ad  absurdum." 

I  know  it  seems  invidious  to  select, 

To  other  stars — who  can  "shine,"  for  they  prove  it; 
But  they  forget.  Ma'am,  the  profound  respect 

I  feel  for  you,  and  what  there  is  to  move  it. 
For  though  you  "  cast  reflections,"  as  they  say, 

And  borrow  splendor  from  old  Father  Sun, 
I'm  sure  the  old  man  gladly  lends  a  ray 

Or  two,  to  such  as  you ; — and,  now  I'm  on 
The  subject,  I  may  say,  in  all  affection, 
That  you,  without  this  much  abused  "  reflection," 
Would  not  be  noticed ;  even  your  connexion 
With  some  "  First  Families"  were  no  protection. 

We're  pleased  with  all  your  habits,  Madame  Yenua, 

And  only  laugh  at  this  vague  Stellar  charge. 
We  "  view"  you,  oft ; — ^perhaps  you  may  have  seen  us, 
With  "  naked  eye"  or  telescope  so  large 
(How  small  we  must  look  through  the  other  end  I) 

Admiring  your  proportions  by  the  hour. 
We  think  a  deal  of  you,  celestial  friend, 

And  learn  to  hke  your  odd  displays  of  power. 


To  Venus.  211 

When  you  ''get  up,"  you  are  our  "  Morning  Star"  : 
And  when  you  don't,  our  "  Evening  Star"  you  are. 
But,  pardon  me  :  I'm  too  familiar  quite ; 
Allow  me  one  verse  more — ^and  then,  good  night. 

Pale  Goddess ! — Empress  of  the  starry  host ! 

Thy  gaze  serene,  it  hath  a  wondrous  power : 
I  dream  at  times  thou  hast  a  soul,  almost. 

Thy  beam  doth  so  ensanctify  the  hour. 
And  now,  thou  star,  I  could  a  paean  raise, 
In  measure  grand,  triumphant  in  its  praise ! 
Sweet  monitor :  so,  when  I'm  lost  in  sleep. 
Thy  cold,  pure  beams  upon  my  senses  creep : 
I  deem  them  rays,  tinctured  with  love  and  truth, 
Strayed  from  the  altar  of  immortal  yonth  ; 
They  flood  my  soul  with  rapturous  dreams  of  bliss, 
And  seal  each  vision  with  a  shadowy  kiss. 


ANSWERS  TO  CORRESPONDENTS. 


BY  A  QUONDAM  EDITOR. 


THE  LONG  AND  SHORT  OF  IT. 

TITILHELMINA  ERNESTINA.— Will  the  Editor  of  the 
'  '  Prime  Mover  tell  me  what  is  to  be  done  with  a  silly  fel- 
low, who  lives  opposite  us,  and  does  nothing,  all  day,  but  sit 
in  his  window  and  stare  at  me  and  my  sisters  ?  Is  there  no  way 
of  stopping  his  impertinence  ? 

A  way — and  an  effectual  one — occurs  to  us  at  once. 
Let  the  sisters  persuade  their  father  to  remove  to  some 
other  quarter  of  the  citj,  without  letting  the  young 
man  know  the  new  locality.  It  must  be  a  serious 
annoyance  to  our  fair  (she  must  be  fair)  correspondent, 
and  her  (perhaps)  equally  fair  sisters,  to  be  bored 
throughout  the  whole  of  every  day,  in  the  manner 


Answers  to  Correspondents.  213 

described.  "We  presume  the  young  man  is  the  son 
of  wealthy  parents ;  that  he  has  discovered  the  secret 
of  living  without  food  or  exercise,  and  that  news  and 
knowledge  come  to  him  by  intuition.  We  judge  this 
from  the  described  inveteracy  of  the  youth's  habits. 
We  have  not  the  right  to  suggest  that  Wilhelmina 
Ernestina  and  her  sisters  may  look  through  some 
others  of  the  (no  doubt)  numerous  windows  in  their 
house,  or  else  for  a  few  days  absent  themselves  from 
their  accustomed  and  (it  seems)  habitual  seats — that 
the  enamored  youth  may  either  die  of  grief,  or  get  the 
impression  that  they  have  gone  to  the  country,  and  so 
go  to  the  country  too.  We  say  we  have  not  the  right 
to  make  the  above  suggestions,  because  we  fancy  it 
would  be  impertinent.  The  sisters  have  doubtless 
long  ago  discovered  and  rejected  all  our  plans  in  turn,* 
except,  we  think,  the  first — of  which  we  take  new  oc- 
casion to  remind  them.  Were  we  of  a  violent  temper, 
"  sudden  and  quick  in  quarrel,"  and  much  more  to 
the  same  effect,  we  should  perhaps  have  advised  our 
correspondent  to  procure  the  assassination  of  the 
offender,  or  resort  to  some  dreadful  jdisplay  of  ven- 
geance more  condign  and  signal.  Doubtless  the  puU- 
ing-out  of  his  nails  with  red  hot  pincers,  would  very 


214  Answers  to  Correspondents. 

soon  have  occurred  to  us  as  extremely  suitable — ^but 
perhaps  not,  on  the  whole,  so  significant  as  searing  his 
eyeballs  with  a  fiery  instrument  prepared  for  that 
purpose.  But  we  are  naturally  phlegmatic,  and  are 
now  very  cool ;  consequently  we  do  not  think  a  re- 
sort to  these  extreme  measures  quite  the  thing,  how- 
ever just  or  beautiful  in  idea.  We  cling  to  our  first 
suggestion ;  with  a  last  reference  to  which,  we  take 
our  leave  of  the  ladies — not  forgetting  our  best  bow 
and  simper. 

FiTz  James  Fitz  James. — I  am  an  idler,  for  it  is  my  disposi- 
tion— my  nature,  to  be  lazy.  My  excuse  is,  I  can  afford  to  be 
the  drone  I  have  described ;  and,  furthermore,  I  have  an  "  aim  in 
life,"  notwithstanding.  I  am  an  observer  of  men  (and  women) 
and  manners.  I  am  a  philosopher ;  I  intend  to  be  a  novelist.  I 
have  been  engaged  making  a  study  of  three  frights,  who  live  op- 
posite, and  have  ogled  me,  by  the  half  day,  for  many  weeks. 
They  appear  to  be  eaten  up  with  pride  and  vanity,  and  are  so 
idle  and  worthless,  not  to  say  unornamental,  they  must  certainly 
be  a  burthen,  as  they  are  a  disgrace,  to  their  parents.  It  has 
been  their  habit,  till  recently,  to  divide  their  attention  between 
me  and  the  passers-by  in  the  street.  Every  young  man,  of  more 
than  passable  appearance — especially  if  his  apparent  condition 
betokens  wealth,  is  subjected  to  the  battery  of  their  glances,  and 
sought  to  be  enticed  by  their  immodest  charms.    The  young  (?) 


Answers  to  Correspondents.  215 

ladies  seem  at  last  to  despair  of  any  important  impression  on  me, 
and  have  come  to  affect  a  prudish  indignation  whenever  they 
catch  my  admiring  gaze.  As  my  studies  in  that  quarter  are 
now  complete,  I  turn  them  over  to  you,  Mr.  Editor,  and  antici- 
pate at  your  hands  such  a  management  of  their  case  as  shall 
happily  result  (to  all  appearance)  in  a  salutary  reform. 

If  Fitz  James's  description  of  tlie  three  (idle)  graces 
be  correct,  we  do  not  accept  his  offer  to  "turn  them 
over  "  to  ns.  We  should  be  in  a  sad  case  to  know 
what  to  do  with  such  unproductive  property.  Our 
plan  is  this  : — Of  course  everybody,  including  every 
idle  young  lady,  reads  the  Prime  Mover.  Let  the 
three  graces  see  Fitz  James's  letter.  It  will  make  them 
very  indignant — perhaps,  for  a  while,  furious  ;  but  it 
will  do  them^ood.  They  will  then  see  themselves  as 
others  see  them:  a  most  desirable  realization.  But 
if  F.  J.  F.  J.  has  exaggerated  his  picture  in  any  par- 
ticular, we  warn  him  of  perilous  consequences.  "We 
will  not  interpose  to  save  him — ^he  must  miserably 
perish. 

SORROWS  OF  AN   ORGAN-GRINDER. 
Dear  Mr.  Prime  Mover  : — I  am  a  poor  Itahan.   The  Italians, 
you  are  aware,  are  born  in  Italy  : — 0  Italy — my  country  1 — 
shall  I  never,  &c. 


21 6  Answers  to  Correspondents. 

Forgive  my  emotion:  I  was  once,  sir,  a  Duke.  I  owned 
an  island  near  Corsica,  and  was  a  man  of  considerable  conse- 
quence. One  day  my  island — ^witli  castle,  horses,  cattle,  domes- 
tics, fowls,  wife,  park,  children,  summer-house,  servants — in  fine, 
everything  I  had  in  the  world,  sunk  in  the  sea,  [which  is  very 
deep  there  ;]  and  when  I  came  back  at  night  in  my  boat,  [I  had 
been  gone  since  breakfast,]  I  missed  my  possessions  very  much. 
I  had  a  horse  that  I  perfectly  idohzed. 

I  became  exceedingly  mad.  "  I  will  have  some  of  them,"  I 
shouted,  very  loud ;  and  letting  down  a  rope  with  a  hook  at  the 
end,  I  drew  up,  at  the  third  haul,  the  very  organ  which  I  now 
turn  for  you  and  my  other  friends.  "  It  has  been  my  plaything 
in  happier  days ;  now  it  shall  be  my  support  and  solace,"  I  again 
spoke,  [very  loud,]  to  the  surrounding  sea. 

I  rowed  to  the  main-land  quite  cheerfully,  and  commenced 
my  travels.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  at  last  arrived  at  the  Land  of 
the  Free,  &c.,  for  happily  my  presence  confirms  my  story,  and 
makes  all  further  proof  superfluous. 

I  find,  much  to  my  sorrow  and  grief,  [also  astonishment,] 
that  the  organ  is  not  reverenced  in  this  land  as  it  is  in  Italy. 

Oh,  Italy !  when  shall  I  see  thee  ?  &c. 

I  find,  here,  that  to  guide  the  delicate  ventages  of  the 
Organ's  sweet-toned  stops,  is  not  a  dignified  and  respectable 
employment.  Alas !  where  is  the  taste  of  America  ?  in  which 
land  I  am  hailed  with  indecent  familiarity  by  even  pohcemen — 
whose  savage  tones,  as  they  hoarsely  shout  ''move  on !  "  indicate 
contempt,  and  awaken  the  Italian  blood  in  my  Ducal  veins.    Are 


Answers  to  Correspondents.  217 

they  respectful  enough  to  a  Duke,  even  granting  that  Duke  is  in 
exile,  and  has  lost  his  possessions? 

My  talented  countrymen  Bellini,  Eossini,  Verdi  and  Doni- 
zetti^ [most  melodious  of  them  all ;  you  ought  to  hear  me  play 
his  Finale  to  Lucia  /]  are  not  understood  in  this  country  by  the 
mass  of  the  people.  When  I  interpret  their  divine  melodies, 
even  my  sweetest  cadences,  my  most  graceful  turns,  are  aU 
imheeded,  unappreciated.  A  vulgar  copper  or  two  is  all  I  get 
for  Rossini!  a  curse  may  folio vv  Bellini!  a  contemptuous  "get 
out !  "  is  ahnost  certain  to'  insult  the  name  of  Donizetti.  Why 
is  this  ? 

Angelo  Paesiello  Gorgoni. 

Sure  enougli — why  is  it?  Gokgoni  has  ground 
out  a  pitiable  case.  "We  are  afraid  the  mischief  lies 
deep  (probably  in  the  pedal-base)  among  the  organic 
elements  of  society.  Mankind  have  many  wretched 
quips  and  cranks  to  answer  for,  and  among  them  are 
prominent  those  which  are  turned  at  the  expense  of 
the  organ-grinder. 

Some  organs,  we  confess  it,  are  intolerable;  they 
are  out  of  tune,  and  out  of  place,  always.  Their  tone 
is  squeaky,  and  their  average  harmony  very  inharmo- 
nious. But  (how  providential !)  there  are  degrees  in 
organic  excellence,  or  perhaps  we  should  say  demerit ; 

and  there  are  some  we  tolerate — nay,  admire.     To 

10 


21 8  Answers  to  Correspondents. 

this  latter  class  we  gladly  believe  Gorgonrs  organ 
belongs.  We  think  no  one  can  reasonably  include, 
in  one  sweeping  denunciation,  the  whole  class  of  these 
instruments,  since  Thalberg  has  seen  fit  to  play  on  a 
French  musical  contrivance  that  cannot  compare,  in 
tone,  with  some  street  organs  we  have  heard,  and 
thus  dignified  an  occupation  which  before,  as  Angelo 
Paesiello  intimates,  has  not  been  in  much  repute  among 
us.  There  may  be  a  "  brighter  day  dawning  "  for  our 
Ducal  correspondent  and  his  fellows — for  the  common 
run  of  whom  we  sincerely  wish  better  organs,  more 
willing  and  liberal  listeners,  and  the  completest  ex- 
emption from  the  sneers,  taunts,  kicks  and  general 
injurious  and  prejudicial  treatment  of  the  world. 
Selah. 


Mr.  PEPPER'S  AMAZING  ELEVENTH. 


PEEHAPS  it  may  be  doubted  by  some  over-saga- 
cious critics,  whether  Mr.  Pepper — K.  N.  Pep- 
per, Esq. — is  really  the  author  of  the  subjoined  great 
work.  I  see  no  other  way  but 'to  let  these  people  go 
on  doubting.  If  the  internal  evidence  of  its  authenti- 
city is  not  strong  enough  to  satisfy  them,  I  firmly 
believe  that  even  a  sight  of  the  poet  himself — swear- 
ing by  a  large-sized  terrapin — would  fail  to  convince 
them. 

Perhaps,  in  fact^  there  is  no  real  foundation  for  this 
fancy.     I  sincerely  hope  it  is  hut  a  fancy. 

TIRKEL  :   A  POME. 

DEDEOAIT   TO   MR.  HUESTON   INTO   3   PARTS. 
PART   THE    1th. 

DiBTiNGUiSHT  Muse  !  your  humbel  fren  stil  livs  I 
Throo  1  yeres  streem  he  lies  sadly  Navvigaited 
10 


220     Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh. 

&  not  ben  swalerd  by  the  bilos.     Muse ! 
He  hes  ben  coald — his  clothe  ben  also  wet, 
His  helth  verry  poor.     He  hes  hed  inflooenzy 
&  Alas !  soar  throat.     Biles  hes  contin- 
ued fur  to  maik  pereodikel  aperens, 
&  his  hart  hes  ben  wel  ni  broak  compleetly. 
Muse !  your  humbel  fren  wil  not  complain : 
The  glory  ov  his  acheevments  pays  liim  wel 
Fur  evry  thing  inflicted  onto  him. 
The  imortel  pome  wich  gest  1  yeer  ago 
You  helpt  him  fur  to  rite,  wil  ever  liv, 
&  magnify  his  naim  like  telescoaps 
Wich  maiks  a  grait  Werld  ov  a  litle  star. 
o  Muse  1  no  fire,  no  wotter,  pain  in  bowls, 
or  even  Hanah's  Taither  cant  him  stop ; 
Fur  Potry  is  the  spirrits  as  preserves 
His  Soal  frum  a-spihn  :  talk  Potry  away, 
&  onfortinet  Pepper  must  dri  up  &  Yannish. 

Ken  you,  o  Muse,  then  hev  the  cruelty 
to  hang  of  like  you  did  be4,  &  peraps 
Not  cum  at  al  ?    hkely  you  may  thine, 
Becos  i  dident  di  wen  i  sed  i  wood, 
ime  never  a-goin  to — wich  is  a  mistaik. 
i  feel  this  time,  o  Muse,  as  ef  i  coodent 
Deseev  you  ef  i  tride.    besids,  the  goak 
(Ef  youm  onfeHn  enuf  to  cal  it  sech) 
is  raither  stall  j  &  wel  you  no  i  doant 


Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh.     221 

Doo  nothin  twicet  alike :  beleve  me,  Muse, 

this  time  i  di  without  reserv — to  I's. 

i  hev  prepaired  a  loc  to  send  to  Hanah, 

tooc  frum  the  moast  conspicyous  ov  my  hair — 

Shoin  how  i  doant  cair  now  fur  loocs, 

&  never  did  much — but  now  no  moar — alas ! 

o  Muse — as  wos  so  offish  about  the  Weelharer — 
Good  Muse — without  wich  evry  pote  hes  got 
A  bad  coald  &  cant  sing :  i  talk  my  oath 
lie  never  cum  to  you  fur  help  agin. 
Wot  doo  you  doo  fur  egsersize  wen  you 
Aint  a-puttin  up  ov  potes  fur  to  rite  ? 
it  seems  you  otto  be  thankful  fur  a  opper- 
toonity  fur  to  maik  a  yung  man  faimus. 
Now  cum  &  help  me,  Muse,  doant  be  a  afeerd — 
Pepper  mmt  rite  the  pome — ^he  feels  his  Our 
Hes  cum,  &  wood  be  glad  ov  your  assistens : 
o  thine  a  minit  ov  the  onborn  Milions 
Mi  gentle  Muse,  as  '11  be  ableeged  to  you  1 

At  last  youv  roas  abuv  your  pregudis — 
i  feel  your  fire  a  wormin  up  mi  blud — 
i  kech  your  breth  so  sweet  &  bamy  too  : 
Mi  preshus  Muse !  beleev  me  yourn  til  deth ! 

"  Ambishun !  powerful  soars  ov  Goody  Nill" 
So  sung  the  Copper  pote  with  silver  toung — 
(onhappy  she,  with  sech  a  misabel  faither  1) 


222     Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh. 

How  ken  you  be  a-settin  pepel  up 

to  dooin  things  wich  soon  thay  find  thay  cant  1 

its  perfeckly  yousles  to  deni  the  charg — 

&  ime  hapy  to  se  you  aint  a-goin  to. 

Fur  shaim !   you  otto  be  in  beter  biznes. 

You  rooind  Napolin — a  cmart  man, 

Also  Ceser,  Elick  sanders,  Mr.  Crummel, 

&  100  uthers  into  the  saim  serkel — 

Al  hkly  men  til  you  saild  in  &  spilet  em. 

it  wos  a  onwarrantabel  Libberty,  &cus  you  fur  it  I 

&  wen  you  leev  the  Hewman  Speshy  a  minit, 

its  oanly  fur  to  insite  a  Resareckshun 

into  the  peesful  brest  ov  sum  onfortinet  AnimeL 

i  now  alood  to  Tirkel  :  ded  &  gon — 

Wich  his  story  i  shel  now  perseed  fur  to  sing. 

Fur  away,  bi  shears  ov  the  wild  Oshun, 
Sitooaited  about  20  rods  frum  the  wotter, 
Lay  a  peesful  pond — not  larg,  not  deep, 
But  a  fair  sise  fur  a  moderat  Tirkel. 
On  it  wos  varis  logs,  good  for  to  set  on 
Wen  the  sun  shines,  &  dive  of  wen  Man 
Cums  with  stun  or  dubbel-barild  shot  gun. 
Nise  tender  frogs  wos  plenty  &  not  shi : 
Evrything  wos  faverbel :  &  heer  livd 
Hapy  &  contentid  fur  meny  yeers — a  Tirkel. 
He  wos  the  kind  cald  Mud,  becos  he  never 


Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh.     223 

Mindid  the  dirt,  but  tooc  to  it  wen  persood. 
in  cam  Contentment  he  wood  set  fur  days 
onto  a  log,  a-dreemin  in  the  Son. 
Ketch  Mm  a  worryin !    wot  shood  he  wory  for  ? 
He  hed  al  he  cood  ete  &  drinc  &  wair — 
(Wich  last  sounds  good,  but  doant  signifi  much ; 
Like  haf  the  comon  potry — ^but  to  perseed :) 
He  wos  satisfide  he  coodent  doo  no  beter. 
the.  sentiment  ov  Wor  he  never  felt, 
Consekently  wos  mild  &  Lam-like : 
Peraps  his  oanly  folt  al  that  time  wos 
His  not  hevin  Energy  enuf  naterallyj 
&  afterwords  his  not  noin  wen  he  wos  wel  of. 
the  Berds,  a-flyin  over,  wood  say  to  thayrselves : 
"  Hapy,  hapy  Tirkel  I     Thayr  he  sets,  esy, 
With  no  cair  onto  his  mind,  no  trubbel 
Fur  to  Hv ;  wilst  we,  poor  fethered  Songsters, 
Must  fli  &  look  sharp  wether  we  wonto  or  not." 

His  mind  rund  moastly  onto  a  femail  Tirkel 
Wich  hvd  into  a  nuther  pond  like  hisn 
&  hedent  no  cruel  faither  fur  to  order  her : 
Consekently  thay  wos  together  moast  ov  the  time, 
o,  hapy  wos  these  2  inosent  Animels ! 
Like  Bobby-lines  as  wissel  al  the  day — 
Sweet  Tirkel-Flowers,  a-bloin  side  by  side ! 


224     Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh. 

PART   THE   2th. 

(Hark!  doo  i  heer  a  roar? — ^i  heer  a  roar.) 
Go  stand  onto  the  shoar  &  vew  grait  Oshun ! 
Se  the  ships,  skooners,  &  morfodite  Brigs 
Wich  carry  such  imens  cuantitys  ov  every  thing 
in  varis  direckshuns  oar  his  boosum ! 
Se  em  leev  the  inteligent  Shoars  ov  germeny 
Also  ov  ireland,  Liverpool,  Frans,  afriky, 
A-caryin  ov  pepel,  iern,  wimmen, 
Umbrels,  &  salers,  with  uther  things  too  tegus 
Fur  to  menshun :  se  clowds  ov  nite  obscure  sweet  Moon, 
(Wich  i  I's  adrest  a  pome  to — &  sed  everything :) 
Behoald  Darcnes  kech  evry  1  bi  sirpris, 
&  Ship  pichin  verry  much :  waivs  roalin  bad : 
in  plais  wair  its  60  or  80  feet  deep : 
Alas  I  sum  a-cryin :  captin  raither  afeerd : 
Waivs  (as  i  sed  be4)  a-roalin  awful ! 
I^^Se-Tirkel  is  cam.     "  he  wocks  the  botom 
Like  a  thing  ov  Ufe."  (frum  byro^i.)  wot  cairs 
this  awful  Savig  ov  the  briny  Sees 
Fur  eny  sech  smal  maters  ?  cuite  nothin ! 
Alus  cam,  he  sleeps — dreems — etes  minnys — 
Roams  in  feroshus  mewsings  throo  the  wotters. 
Wen  he  gits  disgustid  with  1  kind  ov  food, 
(Wich  Se-Tirkels  air  raither  apt  fur  to  doo,) 
He  goas  &  dyits  onto  sumthin  els 


Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh.     225 

Cuickly — becos  Helth  speeks  &  ses :  "  Tirkel  ! 
Talk  mi  advis — he  cairful,  or  youm  gonf^ 
Wich  consekently  results  into  Eels  &  sech. 

Wen  his  feerful  i  gits  set  onto  a  Clamb, 
His  inerds  is  Kegoised  with  it  to  I's  ; 
Oister  hkewais.     nothin  escaips  his  vizzhun : 
Wich  pirsipitaits  thq  berth  ov  the  yung  Wail, 
the  muther  bein  so  confuged  bi  its  glans — 
&  maiks  the  faither  trembil  &  bring  tribyout  ov  ile. 
Wots  mity  Swoard-fish  into  his  hans — wots  Se-snaik, 
Conkerer  ov  Alegaiter  ?    Wacks ! 

Wot  ef  this  mity  objeck  ses :   "  ile  go  ashoar !  " 
He  dus  so  direckly,  a-dispisin  ov  paspoarts. 
Wen  he  apeers  abuv  the  Aquis  Elemen, 
Wot  dus  he  say  ?     Thees  werds  with  Dignity : 
"  Fairwel,  oshun  !  fur  a  few  minits,  Adoo ! 
ef  i  choos  fur  to  talk  fresh  air,  Hoos  biznes  is  it  ? 
Let  eny  ov  these  cussid  land  Animels 
Sho  thayr  fais :  How  i  pitty  em  ef  thay  doo  ! 
ile  sho  em  how  the  magisty  ov  Se-Tirkels 
Hes  got  to  be  observed  onto  al  ocazisns  ! 
i  woodent  yous  no  pirsonel  egzershuns :  o  no  I 
ide  depend  onto  mi  i  entirely ; — ^ide  Wither  em  1 

i  wish  fur  to  hev  these  Egs  preservd.     thay  shel  be  I 

&  be  the  Mejum  fur  fewter  Tirkels!" 

So  sayin  (&  wot  cood  he  ad  to  sech  remarcs  ?) 
He  graisfly  retirs  like  the  meek-ide  fon  (frum  moor). 

10-^ 


226     Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh. 

&  leevs  2  or  3  mild  ov  the  onhapy  shoar 
A-moarnin  fur  his  los.     His  Magestic  tail 
Waivs  a  EKgant  fairwel  to  everything, 
&  he  is  seen  a-goin  doun  like  the  settin  Son, 
With  splender  &  enthugyastic  Aplos. 

PART  THE  3. 

Ambishun  !  remembring  wot  i  sed  to  you 
into  the  1st  part,  it  wont  be  nessary  to 
Ashoor  you  ov  mi  contemp ;  but  peraps 
Youm  2  bizzy  a-rooinin  ov  pepel  to  go  bac — 
in  wich  cais  cus  you,  with  immens  disrespec. 
Cum  forids  &  looc  at  sum  ov  your  were  I 
Stand  &  observ  that  silen  pond  thair — 
Dride  up  with  Sorow  almoast  into  nothin  I 
Sise  cum  up  frekently  frum  the  cuiet  mud: 
A  vois  moarns  &  ses,  "  Alas  !  poor  Tirkell 
taik  fur  away  his  meloncoly  shel — 
Gether  up  the  trankil  inosent  clos — 
&  berry  em  in  silens,  cuietly. 
o,  he  wos  al  mi  fansy  panitid  him  :  (frum  moor) 
&  he  is  gon — sweet,  luvly  Tirkel !  " 

^that  vois  hes  stopt — hes  dride  up  like  the  pond- 

or  wot  is  left  ov  boath  is  verry  smal  sise. 

the  wind  wos  a-blowin  worm  frum  the  South-est, 
(it  wos  the  time  ov  the  Yelow  feiver), 


Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh.      227 

&  brot  the  smel  ov  orangis  &  afrikens 

Frum  the  troppicks  cuite  fresh  &  saloobris. 

the  pond  ov  the  Mud-Tirkel  wos  cam — also 

His  mind,  maid  trankil  bi  a  good  nites  rest. 

Hevin  servayd  his  fechers  into  the  wotter, 

He  adrest  ov  hisself  into  these  few  vsrerds : 

"  TiRKEL  1  wil  you  taik  a  wock  this  fine  mornin  ?  " 

To  wich  he  repHde  with  plesyom* :  "  Sertinly, 

&  much  ableeged  to  you :  "  wich  setteld  ov  the  pint. 

o,  se  that  graisful  Animel  a-wockin ! 
Wot  dus  he  dreem  ov  ?  Hapines,  ov  coars : 
A-winkin  to  the  tre-toads  as  he  goas — 
Wich  resolvs  fur  to  serenaid  him  bi  nite, 
Pirformans  to  comens  a  8  o'clock  persisely. 
Alas ! — ^but  Muse  keep  cuiet  fur  a  few  minits. 
Fait  toald  him  fur  to  taik  the  bangs  ov  Oshun, 
(Wich  he  hed  been  thair,  so  thougt  nothin  straing — 
Bein  a  admirer  ov  grait  boddys  ov  wotter :) 
So  he  went,  wel  pleesd  with  hisself  &  everything, 
A-hummin,  also  a-tryin  fur  to  wissel. 
then  he  wocked  fur  a  wile,  a-lookin  down, 
Wile  WO  set  a-straddel  ov  his  shel, 
A-lookin  verry  Meloncoly,  &  a-sheddin  ov  teers. 
o,  ef  sum  1  cood  hev  turnd  him  around 
imejitly,  wot  diferens  it  wood  hev  maid ! 
But  noboddy  dident — hens  the  Catastrofy. 

Sudently  Mud-Tirkel  cum  fur  to  looc  up : 


228      Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh. 

Wot  wos  a-hed  ?  nothin  ony  a  Se-Tirkel  : 

As  ef  that  wosent  enuf — wich  i  raither  thine 

it  wos.     he  stood  with  Magisty — a-wunderin 

Wot  that  Httel  cus  wos  thair,  a-cumin. 

His  douts  wos  soon  dispeld  bi  actool  facs. 

"  Wen  wos  you  horn  f  "  sed  he,  wen  "  Mud  "  cum  up : 

"J.-4  you  wos  !  "  sed  Mud-Tirkel,  with  Dignity — 

Not  imejitly  pirsevin  ov  his  sise ; 

"  Say  that  agin  1 "  sed  he.     Mud-Tirkel  sed  it : 

&  then  thay  roas  &  stood  onto  thayr  hind  legs. 

"  Arize !  my  son — strech  evry  nerv  1 "  (frum  wots) 

then  sed  Se-Tirkel,  a-lookin  doun 

&  a-holerin  so  the  uther  1  cood  heer ; 

"  o,  i  ken  heer  you,  verry  plain !"  sed  Mud: 
&  imejitly  discuverd  he  wos  smal. 
With  al  his  egzershuns,  wich  wos  verry  grait, 
He  felt  he  wos  a  inferor  kind  ov  Tirkel ; 
so,  a-lettin  ov  hisself  doun  as  esy  as  he  cood, 
He  cast  his  long  &  lingerin  tail  behind  (frum  gray,) 
&  a-syin  deeply,  startid  fur  the  pond. 

in  goin  bac  he  stopt  fur  1  moar  efert, 
Bein  afeerd  he  hedent  dun  his  best  : 
He  sweld  so  hard  his  shel  begijnd  fur  to  crac — 
&  yet  remaind  a  verry  smal  Tirkel. 

"  How  hard  it  is  fur  to  swel  much  wen  youv  got 
A  shell"  he  sed,  in  Considerbel  ageny, 
A-givin  away  to  the  preshoor  ov  his  feUngs. 


Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh.      229 

He  felt  bad.    lie  wos  sory  he  tooc  the  wock : 
"  Cus  him,"  sed  he,  "  fur  a  imens  Humbug !" 

(Aloodin  to  the  uther  Tirkel).     after  wich 

His  spirrits  forsooc  him,  &  he  wos  tooc  sic. 
His  femail  fren  did  evrything  she  cood : 
"  Cheer  up  1"  sed  she,  1000  times  per  day : 

But  no  youst — he  dident  taik  no  interest. 

she  begund  fur  to  git  scairt — &  wel  she  mite — 

to  se  him  a-sinkin  in  spirrits  &  in  mind. 

At  last  he  refewsd  fur  to  hoald  no  moar 

Conversashun,  &  orderd  her  of  ov  the  premisis. 

Wich  persedings  tooc  her  with  serpris  : 
"  Mi  sweet  Tirk-y  is  a-gittin  huffy,  aint  he  ?" 

sed  she,  in  a  afectin  vois,  cuite  sorowful — 

Wich  maid  worm  wotter  ov  his  isy  hart, 

&  cuverd  ov  his  shel  with  perspirashun  : 
^^  Fargiv  me,  luv,  &  stay — He  go  miselff 

sed  he :  &  then  onfortinetly  went. 

the  settin  sun  went  doun  as  he  went  up. 
He  hed  prepaird  a  few  remarcs  fur  hir, 

Aloodin  in  onplesant  terms  to  Ambishun — 

Wich  Deth  cut  short  in  a  onfeUn  maner. 

the  tre-toads  sung — :but  cuite  a  diferent  song : 

(it  wos  a  Disapointment  to  em  al, 

Fur  thay  wosent  verry  fond  ov  miner  mewsic :) 

it  break  the  femail  Tirkel's  hart  to  heer  it : 

Her  Spirrit  now  hangs  round  the  silen  pond 


230     Mr.  Pepper's  Amazing  Eleventh. 

&  speeks  the  werds  aloodid  to  abuv. 
se  Tirkel's  egs  wos  al  wosht  away 
in  a  awful  storm  as  hapend  that  saim  nite ; 
&  he  wos  finisht  bewtfuly  hisself, 
Bi  a  larg  &  splendid  stroak  ov  Htenin 
Wich  overtooc  him  wilst  a-huntin  fur  em. 


Mi  preshus  Muse  I    your  Pepper  taiks  his  leef. 
He  wont  hev  no  moar  ocaishun  fur  your  servis. 
His  WERO  is  finisht — ^also  his  poor  Life, 
Neerly.     he  thanes  you  verry  much  fur  al 
Your  kindnes,  wich  hes  bein  the  maikin  ov  him. 
He  jaoaps  the  Warnin  wich  we  se  abuv 
Wont  be  cuite  lost  onto  the  Hewman  Speshy — 
To  wich,  also  to  you  &  mi  deer  Hanah, 
i  leev  mi  faim,  &  say  at  last :  Fairwel  I 


TO  THE  WORLD. 

AN    ESSAYS- 
FOUNDED   ON  SENSE  AND  DR.    CYRUS  THOMSON. 
BY  P.   PEPPER  PODD. 


THE  "World  is  sometimes  called  tlie  Earth.     Some- 
times we  ]  ead  of  the  Corners  of  the  Earth :  the 
earth  being  round  has  no  Corners.     The  earth  is 


*  As  it  would  be  a  pity,  should  any  part  of  this  valuable 
paper  fail  of  its  due  effect,  I  will  do  what  I  can  to  elucidate  it 
by  annexing  such  portions  of  the  note  by  which  it  was  origi- 
nally introduced  to  the  pubhc,  as  have  a  particular  bearing  on 
the  subject. 

Mr.  Podd  "  was  recently  much  struck  with  a  brief  Uterary 
work  entitled  'A  irhort  Treatise  on  the  County  of  Onondaga/ 
and  written  exclusively  by  Dr.  Thomson,  of  that  county, 
botanic  physician,  probably  with  his  left  hand  tied  behind.    Mr. 


232  To  the  World. 

round,  as  we  see  :  eclipses  showing  it,  through 
smoked  glass,  at  the  proper  seasons.  The  seasons 
are  four,  viz. :  Spring,  Summer,  Autumn,  Winter, — 
the  last  being  the  coldest.  People  have  been  frozen 
to  death  in  this  season.  Seasoning  is  used  in  Victuals. 
Victuals  cannot  be  eat  on  a  full  Stomach.  [What 
say  the  Gleologists  :  Bed  Sandstone  is  the  oldest  Rock  in 

P.  reveres  the  world's  Benefactor  and  Friend,  now  that  he  has 
perused  the  pamphlet  I  have  mentioned,  and  in  the  effusion  I 
annex  has,  in  his  humble  way  (as  he  modestly  says),  emulated 
the  classic  model  afforded  in  the  Doctor's  style.  Mr.  Podd 
desires  me,  however,  to  disclaim  for  him  any  hopes  of  having 
attained  to  real  excellence,  in  this  composition ;  and  to  say  that 
all  he  really  expects  is  some  slight  credit  for  having  called  the 
attention  of  men  to  one  greater  than  he,  and  whom,  he  thinks, 
the  world  should  not  willingly  let  die — if  herbs  and  praise  can 
save  him. 

"  The  Doctor's  powerful  essay  is  addressed  to  a  reasonably 
large  and  somewhat  comprehensive  circle  of  acquaintance; 
thus : — 

''  1st,  To  the  Ladies. 

"  2d,  Mechanics,  Farmers,  Lakes,  Rivers,  Mills,  Soil,  Roots 
Herbs,  Crops,  Rocks,  G-ravel,  Land,  Clay,  Brick  [being  a 
thoroughly-baked  one  himself],  Lime,  Plaster,  and  Salt.' 

*'  Mr.  Podd's  is  addressed  simply  *  To  the  World.' " 


\    ■ 

\  .         .  . 

To  the  World.  233 

the  world.  It  is  called  Eed  Sandstone  because  it  is 
Eed  and  Sandy.  Here  we  see  its  advantage  over 
Hair.  Hair  never  being  Bed  and  Sandy  at  the  snme 
time.]  To  return  to  the  Stomach :  This  we  could  not 
do  if  the  Stomach  was  full. 

FIRST  FOR  THE  STOMACHS. 

Suppose  a  Man :  This  we  have  a  Eight  to  do. 
Agree  that  he  has  a  Stomach :  Man  being  a  Digestive 
Animal.  Eeflect  that  this  Stomach  may  be  abused : 
Not  by  low  Language,  but  by  high  Diet.  Poor 
Stummy  [which  playful  Term  means  Stomach],  he 
gits  Sick.  Is  not  here  a  call  for  the  healer  ?  No  more 
(at  present)  for  the  Stomachs. 

AGAIN  FOR  HERBS. 
The  World  has  places  where  vegetable  Substances 
grows :  These  are  Plants.  Plants  :  Herbs.  The 
transition  is  effected  in  a  Minute,  because  there  is  no 
transition  to  make.  Now,  suppose  an  Herb.  Agree 
that  it  has  got  into  it  a  Juice :  Which  stands  to  Eea- 
son.  Allow  a  Medicine  in  the  Juice  that  hits  Sto- 
machs. Grant  there  is  one  [or  more]  Physician  with 
a  name  that  he  conceals :  This  Doctor  not  only  being 


234  To  the  World. 

"  Death  on  Fits," — to  use  a  playful  expression — ^but 
Attentive  to  Stomachs. — Marh  the  effect  I  He  sees  the 
Eelation  [a  Blood  Eelation].  He  takes  and  gits  the 
Medicine  out  of  the  Juice.  In  a  commanding  method, 
he  says  to  the  Stomach :  Git  Well  I  The  tone  of  his 
Yoice  gives  tone  to  the  Stomach,  and  he  proposes  to 
Heal  all  Diseases,  at  a  very  low  Charge  :  Considering 
first  the  number  of  Stomachs.  Next  the  World 
growing  such  immense  quantities  of  Herbs:  Which 
are  for  the  Healing  of  the  Nations.  No  more  for  the 
Herbs  and  Stomachs. 


ODE  TO  DISEASE. 

It  is  important  that  you  should  be  cured. 
First,  because  you  can't  be  endured. 
Again,  people  have  been  known  to  die : 
Therefore  fly!  fly!  fly!  fly!  fly!  fly! 
Disease  leave ! 
No  more  deceive ! 
Disease  I  ring  your  Nell ! 
Sick  people  git  well !  git  well  I 
Git  well !  git  well !  git  well ! 

No  more  for  Disease. 


To  the  World.  235 

A  TOAST  TO  THE  LADIES. 

You  are  tlie  Motherwort,  Man  Koot,  Ladies'  Shp- 
per,  Angehca,  Archangel,  Fern,  Queen  of  the  Mea- 
dow, Ladies'  Sorrel,  Nanny  Bush,  Eose  Willow, 
Squaw  Weed,  Lovage,  and  Sweet  Flag  of  the  World. 

Ko  more  for  the  Ladies.     No  more  for  the  World. 

FINIS. 


PEPPER  REDIVIVUS. 


IHAYE  been  told  that,  soon  after  tlie  completion 
of  tlie  "  Tirkel,"  a  very  happy  accident  prevented 
the  sudden  extinction  of  the  fire  in  Mr.  Pepper's 
breast,  and  consequent  vainless  sighing  of  the  world 
for  a  few  more  poems  "  of  the  same  sort."  Having 
actually  resolved  on  self-destruction,  as  intimated  in 
his  last  work,  he  stood,  tall  in  his  desperation  and 
stockings,  on  the  brink  of  a  fearful  precipice — a  terri- 
ble illustration  of  the  lengths  to  which  poor  human 
nature  may  be  driven.  Swinging  his  arms  with 
mournful  energy,  he  began,  with  awful  meaning,  the 
well-known  couplet : — 

"  One,  to  begin  ;  two,  to  show  ; 
Three,  to  make  ready  ;  and  " 


Pepper  Redivivus.  237 

"  Four,  not  to  go  I"  shouted  Mr.  Podd,  wlio  that  in- 
stant arrived,  in  time  to  complete  the  thrilling  extract 
and  perform  (himself  being  the  only  instrument)  a 
thrilling  extraction  :  viz.,  his  fiiend  from  the  jaws  of 
Death !  (The  best  professional  dentist  in  the  world 
would  have  called  for  his  forceps.)  Seizing  the  des- 
perate Pepper,  he  made  the  glad  announcement  that 
old  Walters  was  dead,  and  Hannah  Jane  free  !  That 
the  terrible  revulsion  of  feeling  produced  in  the  poet's 
breast  by  this  overwhelming  news,  should  have 
caused  him  to  swoon  with  joy — who  can  wonder? 
He  did  swoon.  About  the  next  thing  he  did,  when 
he  had  revived,  I  should  judge  to  have  been  some- 
thing that  made  the  following  note  and  poem  possible, 
even  in  the  natural  cause  of  events : — * 

North-Demosthenes,  Sept.  15, 1857. 

"  Mr.  diiARK  :  i  supoas  you  doant  need  to  be  informd  that  '  i 
stil  liv,'  &  am  part  ov  the  firm  ov  Pepper  &  Walters,  delers  in 
Domestic  Hapines,  &  sech:  ef  you  doo,  heerbi  taik  notis  to  that 
efec  :  ime  a  ni  naber  ov  fren  Podds,  wich  livs  at  the  4  corners. 

"  i  raither  giv  out,  in  my  last  pome,  that  mi  Muse  hed  ben  set 

*  Clark  says.  Pepper's  long  silence  wos  a  consequence  of  his 
"  disgust  at  the  temerity  of  his  puny  tribe  of  imitators."  I  think 
it  belonged  to  love  and  happiness. 


238  Pepper  Redivivus. 

fre,  &  coodent  be  cald  on  at  site  fur  no  moar  inspiraslaun :  wot 
may  astonish  you,  i  hev  roat  a  littel  pome  without  consultion 
ov  her ;  bein  a  adres  to  my  infant  Son,  now  severil  munths  &  a 
number  ov  days  oald,  &  constantly  gitin  oalder.  ef  you  thine  it 
wil  doo  to  print  fur  mi  frens,  &  isent  entirely  behind  mi  oald 
stile,  plees  insert  &  ablige  yours, 

K.  N.  Pepper. 
N.  B. :  i  coodent  git  it  al  into  14  hnes  (wich  maiks  a  sunnit), 
so  ive  roat  the  rest  into  proas. 

SUNNIT  TO  MI  LITTEL  SON  PETER. 
*  Welcum,  sweet  cus,  to  your  faither's  family-serkel  I 
sech  Httel  Red  republikens  as  you 
Wercs  revolooshuns  every  wers,  't  is  troo. 
talk  your  oan  faither,  now,  wich  rote  the  "  TirJcel" 
"  Weelbarer,^^  &  a  few  moar  sech  pomes : 
youv  maid  him  hapy ;  but  youv  sp'ilt  his  genus. 
No  moar  imortel  Wercs  1  but  pete,  between  us, 
i  shel  git  up  a  practikel  were,  on  Hoams, 
With  cullerd  cuts  (youm  1)  on  evry  sheet, 

ile  cal  it  Pepper's  last  &  graitest  Aim, 
(1  wich  i  raither  thine  is  hard  to  beet.) 
Domestic  Hapines  shel  be  the  naim : 
inspird  bi  Hanah  gane,  your  nateral  muther, 
&  roat  bi  your  faither,  onles  youv  got  sum  uther 
parrent,  wich  aint  hkely.    Peter  !  gro  up  &  maik  a  distinguisht 
man — ^is  the  prair  ov  your 

luving  faither,  K.  N.  Pepper. 


A  WARNING: 

OE,   THE  EFFECT   OF  THE   ABOLITION  OF  CAPITAL  PUN-ISHMBNT. 


*'  Here  are  a  few  of  the  unpleasant'st  words 

That  ever  blotted  paper." — Merchant  of  Venice. 
"  Punster :  A  quibbler,  a  low  wit." — Walker. 

I  AM  melancholy  when  I  think  how  often  time  and 
ingenuitj  are  wasted,  in  efforts  to  distort  words 
from  their  legitimate  meanings  and  achieve  a  question- 
able popularity  by  the  paltry  trick  of  childish  plays 
upon  words.  All  such  wretched  stuff  is  foreign 
to  the  dignity  of  established  writers.  Entertaining 
these  views,  how  was  I  pained  and  grieved,  the  other 
day,  to  receive  a  note  which  convinced  me  there  ex- 
ists a  person  who  finds  his  happiness  in  the  very  pur- 
suit my  taste  has  condemned!      How  I  pity  that 


240  A  Warning. 

young  man  I  How  glad  I  am  to  know  (as  I  liave 
lately  learned)  the  vice  is  not  so  rooted  in  Ms  nature, 
by  the  practice  of  a  long  life,  that  it  may  not  in  time 
be  extirpated !  In  that  benevolent  hope,  I  indulge 
the  youth  (for  he  is  no  more),  and  consent  to  the  in- 
evitable disfigurement  of  this  volume,  both  to  please 
him,  and  afford  the  world  the  startling  evidence  of 
his  present  dreadful  condition.  It  will  be  seen,  that 
he  rarely  or  never  arrives  at  a  good  pun  (if  such  an 
adjective  may  be  coupled  with  so  very  common  a 
noun),  nor  indeed  does  he  seem  to  aim  that  way ;  but 
contents  himself  with  wretchedly  lack-lustre  quibbles 
and  forced  conjunctions  of  similar  sounds. 

Below  is  his  wretched  effusion ;  but  I  am  not  in 
haste  to  reach  it. — I  think  he  should  never  die :  at 
least  his  shade  (when  he  does)  should  "keep  shady" 
when  Dr.  Johnson's  approaches.  (How  true  it  is,  that 
"  evil  '  communications'  corrupt  good  manners" — and 
habits !  I  have  caught  myself  at  last  indulging  in 
the  pitiful  luxury  of  a  pun  !  I  am  consoled  by  the 
reflection  that  it  is  a  very  good  one,  when  compared 
with  his,  and  by  the  resolution  I  herewith  firmly 
make,  never  to  attempt  another).  Indeed,  from  a 
horrible  discovery  I  have  this  day  made,  I  think  he 


A  Warning.  241 

will  never  die.  He  called  upon  me,  and  in  the  course 
of  our  brief  conversation  confessed  lie  was  once  guiltv 
of  an  act  still  more  criminal  than  the  composing  that 
piece.  Then  I  said,  commiserating  the  poor  wretch, 
"  Sir,  if  you  are  the  Wandering  Jew,  heaven  help 
you."  His  brief  and  melancholy  reply  was :  "  I  am  !" 
— and  sighing  deeply,  he  vanished  with  a  sad  grace. 

"TO  TWO  TOADS. 

"  PKO-LOG. 

"  0  Great,  full,  grateful  sound :  a  nightly  payment — though 
there  is  no  pay  meant — ^by  my  little  customers,  those  cuss'd  hum- 
mers of  the  pond.  I  owe  them,  now ;  and  soon  my  Muse  shall 
'0'  them.  No  strange  topic  to  pick  up,  while  those  pond,erous 
tones,  seemingly  by  tons,  come  forth,  and  forthwith  shake  all  the 
air  with  their  '  air' — which  has  no  '  variation,'  nor  '  shadow  of 
*  turn'-ing,' nor  shakes,' nor 't(h)riiring  harmony.  Come  here, 
and  hear !  That  awful  strain  is  an  awful  strain  on  my  tympa- 
num. I  should  be  pleased  at  the  prospect-  of  being  eased : 
seized  by  death  :  deceased — ^without  being  diseased.  Open, 
0  pen !  in  puny  pun-y  style,  a  stylish  poem  that  I  owe  'em ; 
■which,  in  its  witchery  of  numbers,  may  make  numbers  of 
others,  m-others,  br-others,  and  aU  t'others)  cut  short,  by  a 
short  cut,  these  'winding  bouts'  in  which  they  are  winding 
about;  and  as  these  two  'come  to,'  let  others  come  too,  and 

11 


242  A  Warning. 

all  come  to  a  stand — taking  a  standee,  where  they  can  '  stand 
easy'  (say  form  into  position),  safe  from  interposition. 

"The  Vir*  says  : 
"  Songsters !  your  song  stirs  my  bosom. 
(Such  a  stir  has  your  singing  effected  !) 
I'm  affected — I  soon  shall  '  boo-hoo'  some, 
Not  checked  by  your  singing  '  affected.' 
Your  '  key'  you  keep  pitched,  when  you  pitch  on  it ; 

The  reason  was  ever  a  mystery : 
To  hold  it  so,  do  you  keep  pitch  on  it  ? — 
A  key  were  never  amiss,  tarry. 
****** 
"  But,  Toads  ! — to  des-cribe  this  scribe's  raptures, 
Must  take  (you  must  '  take !')  two  long  chapters. 
Some  salve  ? — (Oh,  that  salvo !) — I've  wrapped  yours 

About  a  girl's  hand  (too  long  chapped,  hers)  ; 
"With  the  small  box  I  plastered — then  pitied  her, 
As  the  small-pox  soon  mastered,  then  pitted  her : 
Thus  kin  being  wholly  unfitting  her — 
The  skin  being  hole-y,  and  fitting  her.' 

"  Sweetness  could  no  further  go,"  the  author  adds, 
in  a  quotation.  There  is  no  need  of  it.  "  Sweetness" 
has  gone  quite  far  enough.     Poor  Jew  I 

*  The  Hebrew  knows  Latin, 


Mr.  PEPPER  RE-"  PETE"  S  HIMSELF. 


NO  one  can  reasonably  expect  a  happy  man  to  be 
very  sentimental.  The  poet  is  happy :  hence 
the  subjoined  great  Poem  is  cheerful  in  its  general 
tone,  and  (like  the  denouement  of  a  novel)  very  ap- 
propriately terminates  the  list  of  his  remarkable 
achievements.  Whether  he  will  ever  again  court  his 
Muse,  is  a  question  which  time  alone  can  determine : — 

PETE: 

AN  AVERIG  POME  (fUR  LENGTH :)   DEDECAIT  TO  L.  GALERD  CLARK. 
BY  MR.  K.  N.  PEPPER,  ESQ. 

Sing  Pete,  o  Muse  ! — ^he  bein  mi  littel  Boy — 
Mi  oanly  son — with  short  &  strait  wite  hair, 
&  (at  present)  the  Mezels.     wot  he  wil 
go  into  next,  peraps  you  no,  but  i  doant. 
His  culler  isent  good,  &  the  saim  remaro 


244      Mr-  Pepper  Re-"  Pete"  s  Himself. 

Wil  apli  to  his  apetite.     The  Doctor  ses 
Pete  hes  got  the  moast  Mezels  he  ever  see 
onto  a  boy.     he  hkewais  ses,  gudgin  bi  the  stoc, 
He'll  wip  em,  &  giv  em  haf  to  start  with. 
(Wairin  i  agre  with  doc,  &  go  him  sum  better.) 
Now  go  it  Muse — give  us  a  good  1  on  Pete. 


Paws,  strainger,  &  talk  a  looc  at  a  Cradel 

about  li  yeer  ago.    wot  doo  you  se  into  it  ? 

(as  the  man  sed  wen  he  saw  the  feller  a-lookinintoPutoo- 

rity.) 
1st  observ  that  luvly  Form,  a-rockin  ov  it. 
thats  Hanah  gane,  a  mild  wooman,  week  as  a  fool, 
&  thinkin  ov  Baby,  ile  bet  50  sents. 
thairs  a  wooman,  now,  a  man  ken  be  proud  ov. 
But  talk  a  nuther  looc  into  the  littel  Cradel  I 
se  suthin  Red  ?  thats  the  present  Pete — 
say  1  day  oald !  hees  a-yellin.     taint  much 
Fur  a  yel,  but  as  good  as  moast  yung  yels. 
a-smihn  kind  ov  plesent,  Hanah  settels  him, 
&  presently  gits  him  so  he  doant  even  grunt. 

Wot  a  uncomon  luvly  thing  is  a  yoothful  infant! 
DrooHn  doant  spile  it,  for  its  pa  &  ma  I 
its  a  kind  ov  Bud — a  ignorant  Bud — 
a  no-nothin  Flour,  wich  aint  no  Flour — 
a  inosent  Aingel,  a-chaingin  into  a  Man 
&  a-gittin  cuite  smal  wilst  a-goin  throo ! 


Mr.  Pepper  Re-"  Pete"  s  Himself.      245 

its  littel  hed  is  al  smooth ;  it  haint  no  teth ; 
its  fechers  aint  worth  menshunin,  thaym  so 
teanty.     different  frum  dog,  it  ken  se 
to  I's.     (Cat  doant  se  wel,  long  at  1st.) 
Wot  is  rich,  youm  releevd,  the  very  1st  thing, 
about  thayr  bein  born  Dum,  &c4th. 
How  the  littel  cusses  wil  yel,  sumtimes  I 
Petes  a  good  exampel  ov  the  yellin  kind. 
But  thats  pain  in  Bowls — Grenuses  complaint : 
i  hed  it,  this  mornin,  so  i  thougt  ide  dL 
thats  wi  ime  a-ritin  this  minit.     But 
to  return,  as  the  Comeck  sed. 


Taik  a  nuther  vew.    |  dozen  at  saim  pris 
(as  the  man  sed  wen  he  giv  his  boy  a  Hckin.) 

Wot  do  you  cal  that,  a-wiggUn  onto  the  floar  ? 
thairs  the  Potry  ov  Moshun,  dun  up  smal. 
thats  Pete,  at  6  munths.     How  he  creeps,  tho  I 
Few  Babys  are  cmart  at  6  munths. 
its  nothin  but  yel,  yel,  yel,  with  moast  on  em. 
How  different  Pete  !     Pete  incuires.     Pete  lerns. 
Wots  he  a-lookin  at  now  ?    a  hoal  into  the  carpit 
He  noas  it  otto  be  fixt.    He  almoast  ses  so. 
fix  it  Pete,  wile  your  hand  is  in.     (He 
Dus  it  throo  Hanah  ;  heer  she  cums,  with  a  nedel.) 
industry  &  Pete  I — wot  a  site  for  a  faither  I 

the  contemplaishun  ov  Babys  at  6  munths  is  fine* 


246       Mr.  Pepper  Re-"  Pete"  s  Himself. 

How  interestin,  to  se  a  littel  rip  gro ! 
How  Astonishin  that  Milk  is  al  he  wonts ! 

Wots  ham  &  egs,  or  sider,  or  a  pipe,  to  him  ? 
He  thincs  ov  nothin  but  a-groin.     wot  a  pity 
Hees  got  to  go  throo  so  much,  incloodin  Sicnes ! 
so  much  a-goin  throo  him  at  the  saim  time. 
Hanah  gane  sties  to  it  Pete  sed  pa 
as  plain  as  eny  body,  at  6  munths.      His 
i's  wos  a  kind  ov  blooish  wite  at  that  perid. 
not  a  hair  onto  his  hed  eny  wers. 
Hanah  sed  his  noas  wos  exacly  like  mine, 
or  wil  be  wen  he  gits  a  noas,  i  replide — 
At  wich  Hanah  laft  moast  mewsikel.     But 
to  cum  agin,  as  the  Collery  sed. 


Looc  I's  moar,  pervidin  time  aint  presin. 
Wot  doo  you  se  now  ?  as  the  mise  sed  to  the  OwL 
in  a  corner  ov  the  G-ardin  (the  north  corner) 
a  angelic  Form,  under  a  plum  tre,  a-hoaldin  a 
Baby.     (Pete  at  12  munths.)    looc  twist; 
2nd  time  a  good  wile,  with  both  i's. 
aint  the  Bud  a  cumin  on  Grand  ? 
Hanah  too  is  uncommon  wel,  you  se. 
everything  is  a-smilin,  incloodin  the  cmal  dog. 
Sorry  to  trubbel  you,  but  looc  gest  over-hed. 
Without  a-strainin  ov  your  i'S  mucli,  youl  probbly  se 


Mr.  Pepper  Re-"  Pete"  s  Himself.       247 

A  clowd  blacker  than  wot  scairt  Abner,  wen  he  cut. 

thats  cuttin  teth  &  canker  Eash,  boath  raither  haisty. 

the  clowd  cums  down  :  you  se  nothin :  but 

Mity !  how  you  ken  Jieer,  tho ! 

A  rip  with  good  lungs  stans  a  good  chans. 

Petes  chans  is  uncomon  good.     1st  clas. 

Babys  at  12  munths  air  plesent  fur  to  looc  at. 
thair  is  sumthin  fine  in  a  yeer  oald  Boy. 
Hair  cums  on  good ;  likewais  teth  &  noas. 
thay  begin  for  to  swel !  sumtims  wock  1 
thay  say  ma  &  pa  cuite  distinct  I  thay 
Doant  drool  much ;  thay  ete  masht  tater : 
&  engoy  life  pooty  cumferbel,  considerin. 
Wot  a  gurl  dus  at  1  yeer  i  doant  reely  no. 
ef  Pete,  now,  wos  a  gurl,  i  supoas  i  shood. 
i  doant  taik  no  interist  into  gurls.     But 
to  leev  that  pint,  as  the  man  sed  to  the  Bagnit. 


TAIK  1  moar  looc,  as  the  drowin  man  sed 
Wen  he  cum  up  fur  the  3rd  time, 
thairs  a  Vew !    (Pete  at  18  munths.) 
Air  you  struc  much  ?  as  the  litenin  sed  to  the  man. 
Wot  a  cus,  at  a  yeer  &  i,  aint  he  ? 
oanly  18  munths !  wot  a  chaing,  in  6  ! 
taik  away  the  Mezels,  &  wair  is  his  ekal ! 
How  the  Mezels  spots  a  boy  tho  !    How  Hanah 
laft,  wen  i  askt  ef  Godfrys  Corjal  wos  good 


248      Mr.  Pepper  Re-'' Pete"  s  Himself. 

fur  the  Mezels !  opodildoc  maid  her  agin. 
i  thine  1  tooc  sulfer  &  mola§is,  but  aint  shoor. 
Pete  is  pashenitly  fond  ov  Caster  ile  I 
Becos  i  supoas  it  is  sech  an  egspensive  drinc. 
He  raither  prefers  coald  Prest  ile. 
(Worm,  with  milk :  i  talk  it  coald  without.) 

At  18  munths,  Baby's  air  a  rich  site. 
With  sum  atenshun  to  noas,  &c4th, 
(not  moarn  a  minit  in  a  day,  at  that,) 
You  ken  maik  em  shine  !  thayr  conversashun 
isent  wot  you  may  cal  instructiv  ;  but 
it  kind  ov  melts  into  a  parrens  felings, 
&  pleses  al  but  uther  parrens,  with  yung  I's — 
Wich  thincs  thay  aint  no  grait  shaiks  after  al, 
Compaird  with  sum  thay v  seen.     (Hanah 
herd  Missis  Jefers  say  them  verry  werds 
to  her  husban,  wen  thayd  ben  a  coUin  hear, 
Be4  thayd  fairly  got  to  the  gait ;  thay 
Hevin  2  or  3  squockers  ov  thayr  oan,  i  beleev. 
Youd  thine  twos  i  dozen,  bi  the  nois.) 
Wen  thay  git  a  httel  oalder  thayr  kind  ov  handy 
about  a  Hous ;  fedin  pigs  &c4th,  fechin  wotter, 
Sphttin  kindhn  wood,  &  a  duzen  uther  choars. 
i  shel  feel  bad  the  1st  time  i  wail  Pete. 
1  reely  doant  no  as  i  ever  ken,  hese  so  pooty. 
i  ges  ile  let  Hanah  doo  it  wen  nessary, 
&  tri  &  keep  onto  the  rite  side.    But 


Mr.  Pepper  Re-"  Pete"  s  Himself.      249 

enuf  onto  that  hed,  as  the  man  sed  wen  hede 
kild  his  wife.    Muse  much  ableeged.    Fairwel. 


Wot  doo  you  thine  ov  Pete  ? 

I  now  dismiss  the  gifted  Pepper  :  muttering,  with 
an  air  of  mingled  confidence  and  timidity,  this  vener- 
able and  deprecatory  apothegm  : — 

"  MALA  GRAMMATICA  NON  VITIAT  CHARTAM." 

11* 


A  DELIBATION  ON  STYLE. 


Emanating      from      my      Antre. 

AS  I  grow  older — I  am  so  old,  now^  I  am  almost  a 
fool, — my  taste  for  really  fine  writing  grows 
stronger  and  stronger.  An  elegant  piece  of  composi- 
tion affects  me  mucli  as  a  fine  painting  does.  I  pre- 
sume, reader,  you  are  impatient  to  know  my  ideal 
of  fine  writing.  I  am  not  only  impatient  but  anxious 
to  lay  tliat  ideal  before  you. 

If  you  bave  tbougbt  but  little  on  this  subject,  you 
will  be  amazed  at  the  simplicity  of  my  method  of 
arriving  at  excellence,  and  charmed  with  the  ease  of 
attaining  to  heights  quite  inaccessible  before.  To 
show  the  wonderful  grasp  of  my  own  unaided  mind, 
I  will  now  condense,  into  one  sentence,  everything  in 
my  system  that  is  at  all  essential.     The  prime  and 


A  Delibation  on  Style.  251 

ultimate  desideratum,  of  him  wiio  aims  at  nothing 
below  the  mountain-peaks  of  excellence  in  style 
should  be  the  shunning  all  common  features.  Thus, 
he  should  employ  only  unhacknied  terms ;  avoid  all 
idioms ;  and  preserve,  under  every  phase  of  subject- 
matter,  a  certain  dignity,  a  quiet  loftiness  of  tone, 
beyond  the  reach,  or  indeed  comprehension,  of  medi- 
ocrity. Let  the  composition  in  hand  be  high-sound- 
ing in  terms,  and  majestic  in  its  general  flow, — and 
whether  you  are  likely  to  be  understood  or  not,  you 
may  safely  count  on  the  admiration  and  respect  of  all 
your  readers. 

Let  me  elucidate  my  system.  I  will  suppose  the 
case  of  an  audience  assembled  to  witness  some  per- 
formance at  the  Academy  of  Music — a  delay — and  an 
unexpected  speech  by  a  stranger.  At  the  risk  of 
offending  you  by  associating,  with  excellence,  a  very 
uncomplimentary  shadow,  I  will  indulge  myself  in 
two  reports  of  the  affair  ;  the  first,  a  humble  approach 
to  the  style  I  worship,  and  the  other,  a  re-cast  of  the 
subject,  in  a  commoner  mould.  Among  other  and 
more  important  advantages  of  my  system,  you  will 
perceive  that,  by  it,  length  may  be  secured — which 
writers  will  allow  is  no  slight  advantage. 


252 


A  Delibation  on  Style. 


FIRST   REPORT, 

"  An  immense,  luctating 
throng  was  collocated.  All 
ages  and  conditions  were  there 
commingled;  senile  sires,  and 
grandames  long  in  drear  senes- 
cence, alternated  with  unablac- 
tated  infants  and  the  interve- 
nient  growths  of  humanity. 
Por  a  period  there  was  some- 
thing quite  lethargic  in  the 
quiet;  but  ere  long  the  deferring 
began  to  commove  the  people, 
and  ominated  a  general  con- 
citation — the  prognostic  and 
final  diagnostic  of  which  was 
the  now  frequent  allision  of 
hands,  opertaneous  curses,  and 
streporous,  vague  shouts  with 
no  apparent  purpose.  The 
catacoustic  results  of  this  re- 
sounding prolusion  were  as- 
tounding ;  the  reboation  by  the 
walls  commingling  and  unsig- 
nificising  the  sounds,  and  dis- 
tracting as  well  as  deafening 
the  unfortunate  being  necessi- 
tated to  be  a  listener.  But  at 
last  the  effect  of  this  popular 
commotion  was  manifest.  An 
orgillous,  ponderous,  englutted, 
oleaginous,  atrabilarous  indivi- 
dual with  a  cane,  took  his  ope- 
rose  way  to  the  centre  of  the 
space  before  the  curtain ;  upon 
which,  a  seeming  prolocutor 
among  the  people  ejaculated 
'  Order !'  and  caused  the  tumult 
to  subside.  The  obese  stranger 
possessed  rather  a  plebeian  than 
aristocratic  look ;  and  hie  ver- 


SECOND   REPORT. 

"  A  regular  crowd  was  jam- 
med into  the  Academy.  Old 
foozles,  of  both  sexes,  were 
there — so  were  squalling  brats. 
In  ten  minutes  from  the  time 
the  affair  was  advertised  to 
come  oflf,  the  joHiest  row  could 
be  confidently  looked  for. 
Yellg,  hoots,  claps,  stamps, 
and  groans  shook  the  walls, 
and  stunned  everybody.  Just 
in  time  to  save  a  regular  cav- 
ing-in  of  the  building,  a  fat, 
pompous-looking  old  chap, 
with  a  solemn  air,  a  cane,  and 
a  dull  red  face,  appeared  before 
the  curtain,  and  waddled  to  the 
centre  of  the  stage, — where  he 
stood  awhile,  puffing  and 
sweating :  (like  a  bud)  not  yet 
ready  to  'blow.'  For  a  mo- 
ment his  chances  of  being  heard 
seemed  rather  slim;  but  all 
doubts  were  soon  removed  by 


A  Delibation  on  Style. 


253 


meil  countenance  was  bathed 
in  that  aqueous  effusion  which 
usually  results  from  heat  and 
excitement.  He  at  once  began 
indesinently  to  pour  out  a 
cataclysm  of  incoherent  elo- 
quence, abounding  in  exple- 
tives and  periphrasis,  and  ex- 
hibiting, throughout,  a  perplex- 
ing semidiaphaneity  of  mean- 
ing. His  utterance  soon  be- 
came inspissate ;  and  his  wan- 
derings, in  body  and  mind,  be- 
trayed his  familiarity  with 
loxodromics.  He  seemed  en- 
gaged in  a  luctation  with  his 
emotions.  Repeated  indiscreet 
humectations  of  his  whistle 
had  evidently  overpowered 
him.  He  had  begun  to  hesitate 
for  words,  an  ill-directed  pty- 
aUsm  was  suffusing  his  hirsute 
appendage,  and  he  was  aiding 
his  meaning  with  frequent 
grimaces  and  oeiliads  (being 
threatened  with  complete  ob- 
mutescence) — when  his  per- 
formances became  unbearable 
to  the  people,  who  now  indulg- 
ed in  the  frequent  ejaculation, 
-'Exsiccate  !-Exsiccate!'  Hiss- 
es aided  the  dehortation.  A 
humorous  person  in  the  throng 
denominated  him  '  that  rare 
plant,  the  Anemone,'  other- 
wise, the  Windflower.  They 
threatened,  if  he  remained,  to 
effect  his  forcible  metathesis, 
and  subject  his  fleece  to  inus- 
tion.  One  well-versed  in  phy- 
siognomy would  have  discover- 
ed in  his  countenance  at  this 


the  mighty  yell  of  'Order!' 
from  a  pair  of  brazen  lungs, 
which  cry  majestically  shut 
down  the  noisy  crowd  at  once. 
The  fat  Unknown  commenced 
his  remarks;  but  it  soon  be- 
came fully  evident  that  he  was 
drunk.  Nobody  could  make 
head  or  tail  of  his  speech,  or 
give  the  remotest  guess  at  what 
he  was  driving  at.  His  voice 
grew  thicker  and  thicker;  he 
stumbled  awfully,  and  gave 
other  evidences  of  being  well 
swizzled — such  as  making  faces, 
and  winking  significantly,  to  aid 
his  meaning.  The  crowd  were 
soon  disgusted.  Cries  of  '  Dry 
up ! — dry  up !'  became  frequent, 
and  hisses,  hoots,  shrill  noises 
of  various  kinds,  effectually 
flabbergasted  him.  This  effect 
was  partly  brought  about  by 
the  apples,  oranges,  &c.,  that 
showered  around  him — one  hit- 


254 


A  Delibation  on  Style. 


moment  strong  indications  of 
intimidation  and  alarm ;  for  the 
expressions  of  displeasure  were 
now  ecumenical.  The  defoe- 
dated  atmosphere  was  resonant 
with  the  tumult.  Projectiles 
were  traversing  the  whole  inte- 
rior— impinging  freely  against 
his  person.  He  now  digni- 
fiedly  placed  his  zoophoric  cane 
under  his  arm,  salaamed  with 
grace,  and  passed  majestically 
from  the  field  of  vision.  His 
stately  avolation,  conjoined 
with  the  simultaneous  sibila- 
tion,  afforded  a  diverting  in- 
stance of  the  overwhelming 
power  of  the  popular  will.  The 
ponderous  quondam  declaimer, 
being  stricken  in  the  sinister 
optic  by  a  flying  missile,  pro- 
bably proceeded  to  negociate 
for  a  xerocollyrium." 

Is  comment  necessary  ? 


ting  him  in  the  left  peeper.  So, 
concluding  to  tortle,  he  drew 
himself  up,  proud  but  disgust- 
ed, bowed  sarcastically,  and 
dignifiedly  cut  his  lucky.  No 
use  trying  to  stem  a  crowd. 
The  first  thing  the  greasy  vic- 
tim probably  did,  after  leaving, 
was  to  buy  a  plaster  for  his 
bunged  eye." 


L'ENVOI. 


"Honest  Sancho — discreet  Sancho — Christian  and  sincere 
Sancho,  let  us  leave  these  phantoms,  and  go  in  quest  of  adven- 
tures more  dignified  and  substantial." — Don  Quixote. 

"  What  a  case  am  I  in,  then,  that  am  neither  a  good  epi- 
logue, nor  cannot  insinuate  with  you  in  the  behalf  of  a  good 
play !" — As  You  Like  it. 

GE:^^TLE  EEADER:— Since  you  have  foUowed 
me  so  far,  I  take  it  you  are  my  friend.  And  I 
am  yours.  Believe  me,  I  am  not  one  of  those  in- 
sufferable persons  who,  to  speak  as  a  musician, 
delight  to  make  a  tedious  solo  of  that  which  was 
expected  to  be  a  duet,  and  have  the  assurance  to  term 
their  performance  an  harmonious  conversation.  For 
now  the  height  of  my  desire  is,  that  you  might  be 
with  me  here,  in  body,  prepared  to  sustain,  to  the 


256  L'Envoi. 

full,  your  part  in  that  friendly  chat  which  I  should 
take  the  care  to  set  going.  I  am  ready,  now,  to  lay 
aside,  as  a  thing  to  be  disused,  this  comic  mask,  with 
its  exaggerated  grin,  from  behind  which  I  have  some- 
times peeped  for  a  moment,  to  set  you  thinking  by 
the  apparition  of  a  sober  countenance.  I  would  love 
to  listen,  with  a  pleased  and  serious  attention,  to  all 
you  would  kindly  say  :  for  the  voice  of  a  friend  is  a 
pleasant  music  to  me,  and  is  never  wearisome. 

But  this  may  not  be.  Much  against  my  will,  I 
must  alone  sustain  the  burden  of  this  last  commu- 
nion, if  there  be  one ; — on  me  devolves  the  duty  of 
reviewing  our  brief  acquaintance,  of  expressing  good 
wishes  for  the  future,  and  bidding  the  final  adieux. 
As  we  observe,  in  actual  life,  that  they  who  are  most 
affected  by  the  nearness  of  a  separation,  are  the  least 
heartened  to  make  a  flourish  with  their  protestations ; 
so  it  will  become  me  to  cultivate  a  brevity,  in  this 
place,  and  a  manner  chastened  by  subdued  emotion, — ■ 
and  not  to  weary  you  with  prolonged  and  insincere 
assurances,  or  shock  your  nicer  feelings  by  the  display 
of  an  un^atural  gaiety, 

'^  It  is  certain  that  good  Humour  do  wonderfully 
heighten  Beauty,"  is  a  cheerful  sentiment  found  in 


L'Envoi.  257 

Mr.  Pips  his  Diary.  Beauty  not  less  of  mind,  fair 
reader,  tlian  person.  How  may  we  promote  this 
\"  good  Humour,"  so  justly  valued  by  Mr.  Pips  ? 
Why,  in  no  better  way  than  by  the  reading  of  cheer- 
ful books.  If  Mr.  Pepper  and  I  have  made  a  book 
of  this  kind, — if  it  should  happen  to  have  brightened 
some  dull  faces,  or  lightened  for  the  moment  a  few 
heavy  hearts — why,  I  cannot  say  I  am  sorry  we 
allowed  ourselves  to  write  it.  I  might  almost  address 
my  associate  in  the  language  of  the  warm-hearted 
Mrs.  Gamp,  who,  at  the  termination  of  some  alter- 
nated funereal  labor,  exclaims  to  Mrs.  Harris  with 
cordiality :  "  I  hope  it  won't  be  long  afore  we  works 
together,  off  and  on,  again."  On  second  thought,  it 
w^ould  not  be  possible  to  make  that  classic  language 
apply ;  since  Mr.  Pepper  will  hardly  lend  himself 
again  to  the  schemes  of  a  literary  speculator.  But 
there  is  nothing  to  prevent  me  from  again  skimming 
the  cream  off  a  most  prodigious  quantity  of  the 
"  milk  of  human  kindness,"  and  blessing  the  world 
with  the  oleaginous  result. 

Stupid  me !  where  is  my  pet  figure  of  the  "  Museum 
of  Fancies?"  You  will  remember  I  made  a  great 
flourish  with  it  when  I  bowed  you  in.     But  every 


258  L'Envoi. 

one,  now  and  then,  "  misses  his  figure."  So  you 
have  "seen  everything,"  have  you?  And  now,  I 
suppose,  you  want  your  money  back.  "  Don't  yon 
wish  you  may  get  it!"  I  see  I  wrong  you:  you 
were  but  regretting  the  smallness  of  the  collection. 
I  could  easily  have  made  it  larger ;  but  I  thought  it 
wise  to  err  on  the  safer  side.  Perhaps,  so  far  from 
being  displeased,  you  have  at  times  half  allowed 
yourself  to  think  it  would  be  a  fine  recreation  to 
"make  such  things"  yourself.  Strangle  those 
fancies,  my  friend,  as  fast  as  they  are  born.  Even 
the  frailest,  of  the  fabrics  you  admire,  were  not  made 
without  labor :  and  the  artiste  had  not  always  a  grin 
on  his  face.  Be  thankful  you  have  the  heart  to  laugh 
at  conceits  which  to  him  have  long  outlived  their 
point,  if  they  ever  seemed  to  have  one. 

You  "  must  be  going  ?"  Well,  good-bye : — did  I 
hurt  you  ?  Ah !  it  has  been  remarked  my  grasp  is 
hearty.  I  see  one  may  be  too  cordial.  Let  me  wave 
my  hand,  and  say :  Farewell. 

THE   EXHIBITION  IS   CLOSED: 

And  the   Smiling   Proprietor    (A  Great   Humbug)    Gone 

WITH  THE  Money. 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  UBRARY 


